


don't make excuses for me

by stellacecfair



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Beach Holidays, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Protective Reiner Braun, Summer Vacation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, annie is not a 2d villain, jean kirstein being rich and having an italian villa, the gang go on holiday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellacecfair/pseuds/stellacecfair
Summary: "Of course he has a massive Italian villa," Eren says, his lip curling sourly. "He's probably got a mansion in every country out there."Jean's eyes flash. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you hop on a plane back home? And reimburse me for those tickets I got you.""No, no, he's very grateful!" Armin interjects hastily. "Aren't you, Eren?"As Eren sputters in outrage and Mikasa tells him to stop whining, Bertholdt's gaze drifts to Annie. She's staring up at the villa, but not in awe like the others. Her lips are tight and her eyes are narrowed. His hand lingers by his side, he considers putting it on her shoulder- but he knows that's the last thing she wants.***On a supposedly relaxing Italian holiday where they're all supposed to bond, relationships are broken, realisations are made, and closure is sought after.
Relationships: Bertolt Hoover/Annie Leonhart, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 64
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just an idea i came up with and wrote on the spot idk how good this will be im -11111 at writing

Jean has the biggest mouth of any of them, which is why they're all stunned beyond belief when they discover the secret he's kept from them.

"What in the hell?" Connie yells. " _This_ is where we're staying?"

An luxury Italian villa, tall and beautiful and adorned with vines, stands before the group of luggage-laden young adults. Jean folds his arms and smirks at how gobsmacked they all are.

"See, Marco?" he says loudly. "You said I wouldn't be able to keep this under wraps. But look where we are now!"

"I gotta hand it to you, baby, you did really well staying quiet about it," Marco laughs, tilting up his sunhat to beam at them. "I was shocked too when he told me about it, it's pretty amazing, right?"

There's mumbles of agreement- not too loud, as they don't want it to get to Jean's head. In retrospect it was probably obvious that their richest friend would have this up his sleeve. Not all of them look entirely pleased by this new development, however. 

"Of course he has a massive Italian villa," Eren says, his lip curling sourly. "He's probably got a mansion in every country out there."

Jean's eyes flash. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you hop on a plane back home? And reimburse me for those tickets I got you."

"No, no, he's very grateful!" Armin interjects hastily. "Aren't you, Eren?"

As Eren sputters in outrage and Mikasa tells him to stop whining, Bertholdt's gaze drifts to Annie. She's staring up at the villa, but not in awe like the others. Her lips are tight and her eyes are narrowed. His hand lingers by his side, he considers putting it on her shoulder- but he knows that's the last thing she wants.

Instead he touches his hip, pressing down on it lightly. As a little reminder to himself.

"You better have a giant fridge!" Sasha squeals. "Someone's gotta come with me to the nearest shop, we gotta stock up!"

"I'll come," Reiner offers. "I have to find these wafers that they had last time I went to Italy- they were fucking divine. I don't remember the brand name, but I'll know it when I see it. Bertl remembers it, right?"

"Um," Bertholdt mumbles. "Quadratini?"

He earns himself a jovial slap to the shoulder at this, one that makes him blink a little too hard. "That's the one! You're coming with, right?"

"Can we at least take a step into the house before we start talking food?" Ymir says with an eye roll, before Bertholdt can answer. "I wanna offload some of these bags, the princess' got some heavy shit in her luggage."

Historia's face floods with pink. "I told you I could carry it, Ymir, you were the one who offered to-!"

"Stop your whining," Ymir tells her, kissing her nose- she can make even an affectionate gesture look sarcastic. "Jean, where are our rooms?"

"Alright, we're all buddying up," Jean says. "The couples- me and Marco, Historia and Ymir, Bertl and Annie- are all rooming together. The rest of you can decide who you want to be with."

It's unusual to be in a separate room from Reiner. During past holidays they'd always been with each other, staying up past midnight playing games on their phones, sitting on balconies and sharing a bottle of whisky, and blasting their music...

But now Reiner seizes Connie in a headlock and scrubs his knuckles across his head. Bertholdt tries not to feel wistful about it. 

Sasha goes with Mikasa, and Armin goes with Eren. They're already inside before Jean can yell at them what rooms they're assigned to.

Bertholdt shifts his eyes to Annie again. "Shall... shall we go in?"

"Yeah," Annie says flatly. "Come on." 

Nodding nervously, Bertholdt gathers up their hand luggage and takes hold of one of their suitcases, while Annie takes the other. They drag their belongings inside- it's thankfully cooler than outside.

"Get your stuff in your room and come back quickly, I'm taking you all to the beach!" Jean yells. "And yes, Sasha, we'll be getting food!"

They make their way up the stairs to their room. It's large and painted in a soothing blue, with a king-sized bed, a massive wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom. Not for the first time in his life, Bertholdt feels a pang of jealousy towards Jean. His and Annie's apartment feels like a little village hut compared to this place.

"It's nice here," he says feebly. 

He doesn't get an answer or even any acknowledgement. Perhaps he's speaking too quietly again, but he doesn't try and repeat himself. 

***

The two of them unpack in silence, pulling out toiletries and hairdryers and their swimsuits. Bertholdt reaches for his folded up clothes. When holiday shopping Reiner begged him to go for a loud Hawaiian shirts and overly tight swimming trunks, but was met with staunch refusal, so Bertholdt's wardrobe is normal and simple. 

He's being overambitious with how many clothes he can carry at a time- one of his shirts falls to the floor from the pile he has in his arms. Cursing softly, Bertholdt bends to pick it up, and winces at the strain it causes in his side.

Annie doesn't notice. She's preoccupied with pulling out bottles of moisturiser and cans of deodorant and placing them on the dresser. 

Still overloaded with clothes, Bertholdt waddles over to the cupboards. Relief fills him when he's able to dispose the pile of shirts inside and free his arms. 

Annie's voice cuts through the quiet, just as he's about to return to the suitcase. It's low and soft, but it still makes him jolt. "I'm sorry for earlier."

Bertholdt doesn't move. He's grateful he can hide his face, grateful he can pretend to keep his hands busy with his clothes. "It's okay."

"I was upset about my father's call," she says. "I shouldn't have done it. I'm really sorry."

"I understand." His voice is barely a whisper. "Don't worry about it."

He starts moving again, going back to retrieve another pile, but stops immediately as he feels a hand against his hip.

Startled, his eyes flicker to the side and meet Annie's gaze. He's unsure of how he didn't notice her approaching- but she's always been like that, velvet footed and swift. 

"Bert."

"Y- Yeah, Annie?" Bertholdt says. "What's wrong?"

There's two hands on him now, on both sides. Annie reaches for the bottom of Bertholdt's T-Shirt and gently pulls it upwards, and she runs her fingers- inexplicably cool in spite of the Italian heat, and gentle- across his bruised, warm skin. 

Bertholdt holds his breath, not daring to make a sound.

"Jesus," she says, running her fingers over the mark ever so lightly. It's heavy and dark, and painful to the touch. "I'm..."

"It's nothing," Bertholdt says, trying his level best not to stutter too much. "Please don't worry about it, Annie. I'm fine."

She stares at him, long and hard. "You sure?"

Bertholdt nods. That ever-present bead of sweat trickles down his face. 

"Okay," she says eventually, and he exhales. "We should go and meet the others."

Bertholdt nods again. Annie releases his shirt, and it falls back down, covering up the bruise. Lips press against his palm, and she retreats to find a new dress to wear. 

They can finish the rest of their unpacking later, Bertholdt decides. He too starts searching for something he can wear, something that'll undoubtedly make the others whine about his boring dress sense.

Annie is the opposite to him- though she choooses a simple white number, it looks so good on her. Shyly, Bertholdt says, "You look beautiful."

"... Thank you," Annie says. Her smile is tiny and fragile, but it's there. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah..." Bertholdt smoothes down the creases in his shirt nervously. "Did- did you put on sunscreen?"

"Oh, I forgot. Thank you for reminding me." She retrieves a bottle and turns to him. "Will you do my back for me?"

"Of- of course," Bertholdt says. He hurries over to her as she reaches to pull her blonde hair upwards and away from the nape of her neck.

The moment is still and calm, but he can't stop his fingers from trembling slightly. Annie's always found his fidgeting annoying, so he's glad she's turned away from him right now. He squeezes a glob of sunscreen into his palm and tentatively places it against her back. 

"You're not wearing swimming trunks," Annie says, when he starts gently rubbing it into her skin. "Not planning on going into the sea?"

"Oh, er... no?" Bertholdt says. "I, um, I didn't think you'd want me to."

"Hm?" Annie says. "You love swimming, why wouldn't I want you to..."

Bertholdt pauses with his hand resting on one of her shoulder blades when she trails off. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Annie says quietly. "Just go swimming, Bert."

"But-"

"Say you fell into the countertop." Her words are clipped. "You're on holiday, you should enjoy yourself."

She sounds unhappy, so Bertholdt nods, rubbing the last of the sunscreen into her and taking a step backwards. "Okay."

Annie lets her hair fall back down and ties it backwards. "Hurry, Bert."

"S- Sorry."

He rushes to pull on a pair of trunks, trying not to get flustered by Annie's eyes on him. She looks away eventually, though, reaching for a bag. 

Reiner, Connie, Eren and Armin are absent when they go downstairs again. At the sight of Bertholdt and Annie, Historia calls, "You look so pretty, Annie!"

"Thanks," Annie says, but she doesn't smile this time. 

"Where the hell are the others?" Sasha demands. "I'm starving!"

A loud yell answers her, as Reiner, Connie and Eren come zooming down the banisters of the stairs, with Armin trailing after them sheepishly.

"Hey, watch it!" Jean yells. "Don't go breaking my house!"

"Not like it'd be hard for you to pay for a new one!" Eren shoots back. "So where's this beach?"

"We saw it on the way here. It's five minutes away," Jean says exasperatedly. "Is everyone ready?"

There's a series of nods.

"Wait a second," Mikasa says. Her gaze fixates on Eren. "Are you wearing sunscreen?"

Eren squirms, and everyone does their best to hide their sniggers. And then, with a petulant stomp of the foot, he storms back up the stairs.

"I did tell him," Armin sighs. Mikasa settles back with a satisfied smirk. 

When Eren returns, glaring at Mikasa (who blithely ignores him), Jean claps his hands. "Okay, beach time!"

***

Waves lap against the shore, slowly and seductively. The sound, along with the occasional squawking of seagulls, the sight of the dipping sun and breezy laughter in the distance, is enough to get even the most anxious of the anxious (Bertholdt) to relax.

"Ah, this is the life," Reiner sighs, stretching out his arms as they walk across the sand. "I know I'm hard on Kirschtein a lot, but... he's pulled it out of the bag this time."

"It's beautiful here," Bertholdt agrees. It's relatively empty, too, which is good for both him and Annie, as they've never been a fan of crowds. "I still don't know what to give him in return."

Reiner wiggles his finger at Bertholdt. "He already said we didn't owe him anything."

"I know, but-"

"Shush, Bertl. You've got to learn to accept a favour, once in a while," Reiner says sternly, and Bertholdt lowers his eyes. "I'm going to ban you from thinking while we're here. I don't want a single thought in your mind during this holiday, okay?"

"Not one?" 

A resolute shake of the head is his response. "Not one."

"Okay," Bertholdt says, and a sly smile steals across his face. "I guess I can't think any complimentary thoughts about your outfits, or your wine selection, then-"

"...! Okay, maybe I'll allow one or two thoughts..."

"I thought so," Bertholdt says softly. The two of them stop walking for a moment, and Bertholdt digs his toes into the sand.

An arm slings around his shoulder, and he grimaces at the weight against his side. But it's Reiner, and he's gentle and warm, so. "How come Annie isn't here?"

Bertholdt glances over to where she's sitting on a blanket with Marco, Mikasa and Armin, fingers tracing shapes in the sand. "I guess she's tired from the plane journey..." 

"Yeah, I can imagine," Reiner says. "She never did like planes. Neither of you do."

Bertholdt gives a little shudder, he's been aviophobic for as long as he remembers.

The two of them stand in silence, staring out towards the sea. Bertholdt realises with a jab of irritation that he forgot his camera- there's no way to capture the colours of the sky above the expanse of water, and that's incredibly irritating.

Oh well. They have three weeks out here. There'll be other sunsets.

"Hey!" Connie calls. Bertholdt hadn't even noticed him before, but he's waded in neck deep into the sea. Ymir, Historia and Eren are with him. "Get in here already, guys!"

"Aw, yeah," Reiner says with a grin. "Let's go, Bertl!"

Bertholdt stays completely still for a moment, his hands frozen by his sides, but then he remembers what Annie said earlier. In an instant Reiner tears his shirt off, but Bertholdt only fiddles with the bottom of his.

"C'mon!" Reiner says. He's already on his way to the blanket where the others are to deposit his shirt. "Hurry it up!"

When they reach them, Bertholdt meets Annie's eyes for a moment. She tilts her head at him, and with a sense of trepidation, Bertholdt peels off his shirt.

He instantly feels like pulling it back on, but it's too late, everyone has already seen it.

"Oh, my," Armin says, eyeing the bruise. "That looks painful, Bertl. How did that happen?"

"Holy shit, what did you do?" Reiner says, bending down to get a closer look at it. 

Annie doesn't look at him as she takes his shirt. Bertholdt swallows deeply, and says, "I tripped and banged my hip against the counter. I was being clumsy."

"Ouch," Marco says. "That had to have stung." 

"Fuck counters," Reiner says firmly. "I can't tell you how many times I've gone stumbling into one when off my face. They exist to piss me off."

"Or maybe it's the drinking that's at fault," Annie murmurs. The joke surprises Bertholdt- when he looks at her, he sees that there's mild gratitude on her face.

Relief fills him, and he lets out a little chuckle. 

"Ah, go fuck yourself, Leonhart," Reiner says jovially. "Alright, into the water we go! When are Jean are Sasha going to be back with the food?"

"Who knows. Jean will probably have to get a ton extra to stop Sasha eating everything by the time they get back," Armin sighs. 

Reiner rubs his hands in anticipation. "More time for us in the sea, then. C'mon, Bertl, I want to go and fight Yeager!"

Bertholdt doesn't have time to say anything to Annie before he gets dragged backwards. But she gives him a tentative wave, making him think that tonight will be fine.

"Remember my ban on your thoughts?" Reiner says, when they're halfway to the water. Bertholdt looks at him in surprise. "I'll alleviate it a bit when we're out there. I'm gonna need your tactical mind so I can get Eren's ass."

A laugh escapes Bertholdt, and he cracks his knuckles to show his focus. "Okay, Reiner, okay... I've got you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i was having an actual fever dream when i wrote that last chap, i literally got the idea, sat on my laptop, wrote out all that and then posted it without properly proofreading??? why did i do that?? but i like the concept and it's already posted, so im just gonna try make the next chaps better lol. i will probably fail at that

"Red wine, anyone?"

There's a chorus of cheers when Jean emerges from the kitchen, holding a bottle in each hand. They're all huddled in the living room, in their nightclothes and feeling pleasantly cosy after their long day of physical activity. Bertholdt's eyes droop as he sits wedged between Reiner and Annie- the sleepless night and travelling and tiredness from swimming is catching up with him. 

"I'll get the glasses," Marco says. He jumps from his spot on the couch and gives Jean a quick kiss on the cheek. 

"I'll help!" Historia chirps, earning a most devastating eye roll from her girlfriend.

Reiner stretches out on the sofa, tipping his head towards the ceiling and giving an impressive yawn. Bertholdt eyes him in amusement.

"Tired?" he asks. "I thought you said you were going to be raging from dawn till dusk this whole holiday." 

"I will be," Reiner promises, but is betrayed by another yawn forcing its way out. "Just- after today. It was a long flight."

"Maybe you should go to bed," Bertholdt suggests. He shifts slightly when he feels Annie start to lean against him, to make her feel more comfortable. "Skip out on the wine and get a good night's rest."

True to his expectations, he gets a disbelieving look at this. "Bertl... please. Am I an eighty two year old grandfather? Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, because it's healthier for you?"

Reiner pulls in his outstretched legs so Historia and Marco, laden with wine glasses from the kitchen, can pass through.

"Yeah, we don't do that here," he says. "I told you, I'm raging this holiday. Going crazy and stupid. Speaking of which, I need to ask Jean what nightclubs they have here- hey, Kirschtein!"

Jean clears some space on the table for the glasses. "What'd you want?"

"Do they have any good clubs in the area?" Reiner asks. "A good party scene?"

"Ooh, yeah!" Connie says. "We're gonna lose our minds, right, Reiner?"

Eren gives a feral grin when Reiner nods. "Count me in!"

"Count me out," Armin says glumly. Bertholdt shares the sentiment.

"Don't worry, you alcoholics, there's a really good one about ten minutes away, and we can always go into the city," Jean says. "I've got your every need while you're here, trust me. Ask and I can deliver."

"Great!" Eren says. "Can you leave?"

It takes the combined effort of Marco, Mikasa and Armin to stop Jean from drenching him in wine.

They start passing glasses around, Jean conspicuously witholding Eren's until Marco snatches it from him with an exasperated huff. Bertholdt hands a glass to Annie.

"Thanks," she says quietly. 

It's the first thing she's said in a while, and seems to remind Reiner that she's there. He reaches behind Bertholdt's back to prod her, earning himself a most withering look. "Why are you being so quiet, Leonhart?"

"Because I don't want to talk to you," Annie informs him. 

Ymir snorts. "Looks like your charms don't work on everyone, eh, Reiner?"

"Will you talk to me, Annie?" Connie shouts.

Annie's deadpan stare is more than enough for a response. At the sight of it, Connie pretends to collapse, but she turns away from him and sips his wine.

"Devastating as always, Annie," Armin says with a small smile. 

"Maybe the heat in this place will thaw you out," Reiner jokes. "Is that why Bertl's being all rigid? Are you freezing him up too?"

_Shit._

Bertholdt's breath catches in his throat. He wants to tell Reiner to shut up so badly, but judging by the cheeky grin on his idiot friend's face, his words would fall on deaf ears. Bracing himself, he chances a glance at Annie, but she's still wearing her signature bored expression. 

"I don't know if you've realised, but Bert has never been a go with the flow type of person," Annie says dryly. "He was like that before I came along."

"Yeah, you're not wrong about that," Reiner admits. "You're always putting on a damper on my fun, aren't you, Bertl?"

He pounces on Bertholdt to grind his knuckles across his scalp. Firmly pushing him away, Bertholdt says, "You mean I'm always trying to stop you from getting yourself killed in reckless stupidity. Now stop trying to attack me, will you? You're gonna spill your wine."

His words are braver than he feels, but they seem to convince everyone, as they all start laughing about how he and Annie are as cold as each other. Jean's eyes glint maliciously at the mention of potential spilled wine, and he threatens Reiner with bodily harm if a drop of red gets on his white sofas. 

In the commotion, Bertholdt starts fidgeting with the ring on his pinky, all too aware of the weight against his side. He immediately stops when Annie's hand reaches out to touch his. 

_Sorry,_ he tries to express with his eyes. She watches him for a moment, and then gestures to his wine.

"Drink," she says. "Stop thinking."

He obliges. It's bitter, he's never liked the taste of alcohol- he only ever drinks it to get out of his head. But the taste at least distracts him from his nerves.

"So what's on the agenda for these weeks, Jean?" Armin asks, stopping Eren from trying to take his wine from him. 

"Well, it's up to you guys, isn't it?" Jean says. "What kind of holiday experience are you looking for? Relaxing beach time, sightseeing, getting off our faces- we can do any of it."

Eren groans when he sees Armin's eyes light up. "Please don't ask Armin for his opinion. He's obsessed with history, he'll make us go and look at all this old ass architecture."

"We're in Italy, Eren! Do you know how many fascinating buildings and monuments there are? How steeped in history this place is?" 

"I don't know, and I don't care! Look, let's do a show of hands- how many of you want to look at old buildings on your vacation?"

One hand goes up- Historia's. Bertholdt's remains at his side, even though he's always been enraptured by exploring history. Annie gives him a bemused look. 

"Bertholdt!" Armin protests. "How many conversations did we have about seeing the Duomo before we left?"

"Yeah, put your hand up, Bertl," Reiner says, rolling his eyes. "Don't be shy- everyone's judging, but you should be used to it by now."

Defeated, Bertholdt raises his hand. There is still an overwhelming majority against the three of them.

"We can put aside a few days for them," Marco says, because he's Marco, and he's a sweetheart like that. "We'll still have plenty of time to do other stuff."

Eren huffs, and Armin looks triumphant.

"I don't mind what we do, as long as we get to try out every inch of Italian cuisine," Sasha informs them. "Though sitting on the beach and stuffing my face sounds like the closest thing to heaven."

"Sasha, we could be living in a literal pit, and you wouldn't mind as long as there was food there," Ymir says.

"If you expected me to deny that, you were wrong."

Jean pinches the bridge of his nose as Ymir shakes her head in disbelief. They're getting absolutely nowhere with this.

"I just wanna go surfing and paragliding," Connie tells them all. "As long as that happens, I'm all good."

"Like you've got the skill to surf," Reiner snorts. "You'll drown in seconds, skinny bitch boy."

Connie jumps to his feet, his wine sloshing dangerously in his glass. "What'd you say?"

Ever the voice of reason, Mikasa interjects before there's a brawl. "Just divide the days. Some days we spend on the beach, some nights Reiner can drink himself half to death, some days we go and see Armin and Historia and Bertholdt's buildings."

There's a mumble of agreement at this, though Reiner looks mildly offended by her perception of him (whilst draining his wine glass in the process). 

Eyes drift towards Annie, who hasn't voiced her opinion yet. Armin pipes up, "What do you think, Annie?"

Annie shrugs. "I really don't care. I'll do whatever you all decide."

With that, they all decide to resort to Mikasa's option. For the first proper day they'll go to the beach, so they can settle before branching out. That sounds like a good idea to Bertholdt- he brought notepads along with him, so maybe he can get some writing done in the peace. If he doesn't get dragged into surfing lessons with the other guys, that is.

"You probably wanna relax, huh?" Reiner says sagely to Annie, when the conversations split apart. "It seems like the job has been really tough on you."

Bertholdt freezes again. This time, he feels Annie do so too.

"What do you know about it?" she asks coolly. 

"That it's a hard job?" Reiner says. "Bertl says you've been getting more stressed recently, and that your father has been on your case, so... guess this holiday came at a good time, right?"

Reiner is Bertholdt's friend. His beautiful best friend. But right now Bertholdt wants to smash his empty wine glass over his skull.

"... It did," Annie says pointedly. It takes every ounce of Bertholdt's willpower not to start wringing his hands again.

Jean and Eren distract Reiner before he can say anything else. Bertholdt finishes his wine all in one go, and requests a refill from Marco. 

When Sasha falls asleep against Mikasa's shoulder, they all decide it's time to go to sleep. At first they try poking her and yelling her name to get her to wake up, but eventually Mikasa scoops her up to carry her upstairs to their room.

"How come you never carry me like that?" Historia asks Ymir, jutting out her lip.

"Oh, you want me to carry you?" the brazen girl asks. "Your wish is my command, princess."

"Wait, really- aaah!" Historia's delight is quickly replaced by indignation as she's flung over Ymir's shoulder in a fireman's hold. "Not like that, you big dummy! I meant in a romantic way!"

Laughter rings through the group as Ymir carries the thrashing Historia up the stairs. Marco looks at Jean hopefully, but only earns a jab to the ribs and a, "Maybe if I hadn't drunk so much wine."

Annie leaves the group without saying goodnight, and Bertholdt follows her, after getting briefly wrestled by Reiner in a hug.

Silence can be so very heavy. Bertholdt knows how long it can stretch on for, so the second he steps into their room and closes the door behind him, he says, "I'm sorry for telling him."

She's brushing out her hair by the mirror, anger obvious in her every movement. He expects her to round upon him with the hairbrush, but she only continues to smooth out knots.

"I don't want to be reminded, when I'm here," she says. "Do you understand?"

"I know, I'm sorry," Bertholdt says. "I'm really sorry. I only- I only said that you were finding the job a bit stressful-"

"And you told him about my dad?" Annie snaps.

"Y-Yes- I'm sorry about that, but it wasn't anything in depth, I promise, I only said-"

She sets the brush down on the nightstand with a heavy clank- he flinches and falls silent at once. In the mirror, she notices. Her jaw tightens.

"For fuck's sake, Bert," she says. "This is meant to be a holiday. I don't want to be thinking about my stress, and how it- how it-"

Eyes flicker in his direction momentarily, and then away again.

"He said that I'm freezing you up- you didn't say anything-?"

" _No,_ " Bertholdt says emphatically. "It was just a stupid Reiner joke, I promise I haven't said anything. I swear, he doesn't know anything."

She regards him intensely, and he tries as hard as he possibly can not to reach for that ring...

"Christ," Annie says. Her heavy sigh blows away any further words of apology Bertholdt mutters. "Look at our holiday spirit."

"I'm sorry," Bertholdt repeats weakly.

"Stop that," she says. "Let's... let's just go to sleep. We're tired. Tomorrow will be better."

He nods, because that's all he can do. The words stick in his throat.

Annie watches him for a few seconds longer, before reaching for her toothbrush case and making for the bathroom. When she's gone, Bertholdt covers his face with his hands.

Jesus. It's the first day, she's meant to have peace this holiday, and already... he promised himself he _wasn't_ going to do anything to make her feel worse, and now...

It's not Reiner's fault. He has no idea about any of this, how guilt-ridden Annie feels by all that happens. It's Bertholdt's fault for not being able to help Annie properly, for not knowing what to do. He's never known what to do, he's always been unreliable. 

He takes an inordinate time brushing his teeth when he gets into the bathroom, and scrubs his face as hard as he can. It's almost a punishment for his stupidity.

When he returns to the bedroom, he thinks Annie has already fallen asleep- she's curled on her side, with her eyes closed. There's plenty of space on this bed, and she's so small that they can keep distance between them.

The bed dips slightly as he crawls beside her, stretching out his long limbs to turn off the lamp she left on for him. He hesitates, watching her for a second, before turning to his side.

Away from her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are surprisingly really quick to write, i guess it's because it's dialogue and stuff??? really not sure but, eh. idk if it's enjoyable in the slightest but this is just for fun i guess

_Chat: Bertholdt Hoover and Reiner Braun_

**Reiner:** beeeeertl

 **Reiner:** u awake

 **Reiner:** burnttoast

 **Reiner:** birmingsnort

 **Reiner:** berutohoruto

 **Reiner:** bertholdt hoover

 **Reiner:** bertl wake the FUCK up

 **Bertholdt:** Wtf do you want

 **Bertholdt:** It's 7:30am 

**Reiner:** LMAO i didn't think u would respond i was about to spam u with twitter videos

 **Reiner:** why u awake

 **Bertholdt:** Because I left my phone on full sound like the sad fool I am and got your fucking messages, that's why

 **Bertholdt:** Didn't sleep well anyway

 **Reiner:** wow same here bestie!!!!!

 **Reiner:** we just get each other

 **Reiner:** tho that's weird any time we've ever slept with each other the eruption of mount vesuvius wouldn't have woken u

 **Bertholdt:** I slept so I could avoid talking to you

 **Bertholdt:** Anyway WHAT do you want

 **Reiner:** damn. That Shit Kinda Hurted.

 **Reiner:** well

 **Reiner:** i didn't sleep well either and connie's out like a light

 **Reiner:** if ur actually awake wanna get up and hang out? i wanted to go to the shops and get some snax

 **Reiner:** namely these beauties:

**Reiner:**

****

**Bertholdt:** What's the deal with you and the wafers

 **Reiner:** they're sexy asl, that's the deal

 **Reiner:** u coming or?

 **Bertholdt:** Idk

 **Reiner:** fuck u 

**Reiner:** do u have to ask ur girlfriend if u wanna hit town and buy wafers with ur boy is that why ur leaving me hanging

 **Reiner:** loser 

**Bertholdt:** I'm going back to sleep

 **Reiner:** NO

 **Reiner:** twas but a joke

 **Reiner:** Please, Bertholdt. I implore with you. I beseech thee. Please Accompany Me To Purchase The Wafers.

 **Bertholdt:** You are insufferable

 **Bertholdt:** Fine. I'll come 

**Reiner:** LOVE U BESTIEEEEE

 **Reiner:** meet me downstairs in twenty mins babey <3

Smiling to himself at his friend's perpetual energy at even these hours of the morning, Bertholdt places his phone back on his bedside table. Reiner is difficult to deal with, but he never fails to make Bertholdt laugh.

He barely slept a wink last night, having laid awake thinking too much about all and everything. Sleep probably won't come to him at all at this point, so he might as well get up and face the day early. And it'll be nice to get a glimpse of the town they're staying in. 

Sitting upright, he makes to get out of bed, but immediately freezes when he hears Annie say, "What are you doing?"

She's turned towards him, her eyes cracked open slightly. Even with her hair messy and her being half-asleep, she can manage a pretty ferocious glare.

"I was just going to head to town with Reiner," Bertholdt whispers. "Is that okay?"

"It's not even 8am."

"I know..." Bertholdt says hesitantly. "It's just, Reiner and I didn't get much sleep, so we thought that now we're awake, we could go and hang out. Can... can I go?"

"... Yeah, whatever. Just quit making so much noise, it's early as fuck," Annie mutters. "You might say you didn't get much sleep, but you were moving around too much _again_ last night. You kept waking me up."

It appears Bertholdt really is incapable of doing anything right- he was _sure_ he tried to stay as still as possible, to stop himself from tossing and turning like he usually does. But he can't control his unconscious movements. 

"I'm really sorry about that," Bertholdt says, rubbing the back of his neck. He swings one leg out of bed. "Do... do you want me to get you anything from the shop?"

"No." Annie turns away from him again. 

She doesn't say anything more, so Bertholdt takes that as permission to leave. With a sigh, Bertholdt leaves bed and pads over to the bathroom, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Fortunately, he's able to get ready and slip out of the bedroom without any further rebuke.

Reiner is already there when he reaches the living room, fully tipped backwards on one of Jean's fine leather recliners. When he spots Bertholdt, he says, "You took your time!"

"I didn't take that long," Bertholdt mutters. "I bet you leaned that back just to make it look like you've been waiting there for ages."

"That, and they're cosy as shit. I can't believe Kirschtein grew up sitting on these things. Do you remember that ratty old couch you and your dad used to have?"

"Yeah, you threw up on it after swimming practice one day," Bertholdt says. "Annie hit you because you got some on her shoes."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Reiner says, "Maybe that's why she doesn't like me. Violent girl."

Bertholdt looks away from him. "Maybe she doesn't like you because you're an idiot. Anyway, are we going into town or not?"

"Patience, dear, let me just lower this thing," Reiner says, reaching for the button on the side of the chair. "Wait, you've got Euros on you, right?"

"Yeah. You did exchange your money before you left, right?"

"Of course I did, I'm not _that_ unprepared," Reiner says with an eye roll. "I'm just testing you. Seeing if you're as organised as I am."

He blithely ignores Bertholdt's deadpan stare, and hops to his feet.

"The town's not too far away," he says brightly. "Let's get going!"

***

Bertholdt worries about Reiner sometimes. The second they step into the supermarket, he makes a beeline through the aisles straight to the alcohol shelves.

"Reiner, Jesus Christ, we can't be seen buying vodka at 8am," he hisses, when Reiner picks out two bottles and wiggles them at him enticingly.

"Why not?" Reiner says. "Nobody gives a shit as long as we're giving them money. Don't worry."

His attempt at a winning smile does not win Bertholdt over. "I thought you came here for snacks?"

"I did! But there also happens to be alcohol here, so I'm killing two birds with one stone." 

"Jean has plenty!" Bertholdt protests. "You're just wasting your money.

"Oh, stop whining, will you?" Reiner tells him. He hums contemplatively, scanning the shelves. "Connie said he wanted some of those canned cocktails- you might like those, Bertl, they're pretty sweet-"

At a loss, Bertholdt leaves Reiner with his alcohol and goes to find actual food. His eyes light upon the prawn crackers Sasha adores, so he picks up some, and while he knows Annie said she didn't want anything, he grabs a few of bars of chocolate- both of them have quite the sweet tooth. 

He runs into Reiner again by the biscuits section, and sees him triumphantly holding up a bag of-

"Quadratini!" He hugs the cherished snack to his chest. "I've been reunited with you!"

"I'm pretty sure you can get wafers like these back home," Bertholdt tells him, but he goes ignored. "Have you got everything you need?"

"Mmhm- what did you get?" Reiner peers into Bertholdt's basket. "Ah, ever the sophisticated shopper. Prawn crackers and four bars of chocolate."

Bertholdt glares at him. "And two bottles of vodka, three canned cocktails and rum is better?"

"And Quadratini," Reiner corrects him. "It's a very mature selection."

"We're shopping like depressed students," Bertholdt mutters.

"We're not too far off from that," Reiner says with a grin. "C'mon, let's go to the counter."

As exasperated as Bertholdt might be by his best friend, he also feels a swell of gratitude when he takes control handing over the shopping to the lady at the counter. Bertholdt does know some Italian, but he's always been awfully shy and can barely get out a word when talking to people in retail. 

" _Grazie,_ " Reiner says with a charming grin, when they get their bags back. The woman beams at him, and nods at Bertholdt when he gives her a tentative wave.

The two of them exit the supermarket and step back out into the sun- Bertholdt squint as a ray of light hits his eyes.

"Historia is not gonna be able to handle this heat," Reiner says, blowing out a gust of air and fanning his face. 

"Yeah, and she gets sunburnt _really_ easily," Bertholdt says. "That's why she's always slapping on so much sunscreen and wearing those giant hats."

"I think they're cute," Reiner says. "Don't tell Ymir I said that."

Bertholdt rolls his eyes, but smiles. The two of them walk along the road in companionable silence for a while, swinging their bags lightly beside them. 

"It's beach day today, right?" Reiner says, when they turn the corner towards the road leading back to the villa.

"Yeah. We're taking it easy for the first day," Bertholdt says. "Not that you know what that means."

"I always take it easy," Reiner says dismissively. "It's you who doesn't know how to relax. Always stiff and nervous. You'd be falling apart at the seams at a spa."

He pokes Bertholdt in the arm with a playful smile. 

"You might be joking, but Historia took me for a spa day once, and it was a nightmare. Acupuncture is horrifying."

Reiner's laugh has always been infectious, and as much as Bertholdt wants to try and express how deadly serious he is, he can't help but giggle. 

"There were needles everywhere, Reiner!" he tries to protest. "In my face!" 

"That's the point of it, you idiot," Reiner tells him. "Ha! The _point_ of it. Anyway, did you try any other treatments? How about a massage?"

"Even worse."

To his surprise, Reiner's face grows more solemn. "Ah, yeah. You're not a fan of being touched."

Awkwardly, Bertholdt twists his bag in his hand. "I don't mind it all the time, but, you know. Strangers and all."

"No need to explain, I know," Reiner says. "Well, I'll find ways to get you to unwind."

It doesn't sound like a cheeky Reiner threat, but more like a gentle promise. Bertholdt's lips curl up at the corners.

"Well, I was planning to do some writing when we got to the beach today," he says. "I've always found that pretty relaxing. When I'm not in a block."

The sheer enthusiasm on Reiner's face takes Bertholdt aback- his whole face actually lights up, as if he's genuinely excited about Bertholdt's writing. "Hell yeah, man! You're feeling the motivation again?"

Bertholdt nods shyly. "I'm working on some of the shorter stuff at the moment."

"That's great! You gotta show me some when you're ready," Reiner says. "I'm still waiting for more of that reincarnation story. You know, the one with the two boys who were child soldiers in their past life? The bits you showed me were so fucking cool, man, I remember one line- _in that life, it was a broken promise, in this life, it's on their agenda_."

"How do you even remember that?" Bertholdt mumbles, stunned that Reiner had kept that in his mind. "Thank you so much, man... I was actually going to work more on that one today... I can send you an extract, if you want?"

"Amazing!" Reiner says brightly. "I've _really_ missed the extracts you sent me, bro. You've been holding out on me."

Red floods Bertholdt's face and he has to focus on the fence running alongside them. He _has_ stopped sending extracts recently- because he imagines it would be a bother to open up a message and see a lengthy paragraph from some half-finished story. He always pictured Reiner rolling his eyes whenever Bertholdt sent him an extract, so he stopped doing it all together. Does Reiner _actually_ enjoy reading Bertholdt's writing?

"I have to ask- and don't kill me- but how's the main project going?" Reiner asks. "I know you've banned any talk on it, but I've missed it so much."

"Please don't," Bertholdt groans. "It's stuck in permanent editing status. It'll never get published."

He's constantly thought about it, but with Annie's infectious stress and him having to balance his own work, he rarely gets the time to focus on his biggest project. It fills him with guilt whenever he thinks of it.

"I don't want to pressure you, but also I do, because the world needs to see Bertholdt Hoover on a front cover." Reiner grins at him. "But I'll drop the subject."

"Please do."

He's burning scarlet, to the tips of his ears. Reiner slings an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close for a noogie, because he's spent a little too long being nice and not enough time being annoying.

When they reach the house again, a few of the others are awake too. Armin, Marco and Historia are diligent early risers, Sasha is always full of energy and Mikasa doesn't see the need to sleep in. Surprisingly, Jean is there too, presumably because this holiday has him too excited to stay down for long.

"Whoa, the hell? Where did you two go?" Jean says upon spotting Bertholdt and Reiner. "I thought you guys were still in bed, you're never up at this time- especially not you, Bertl!"

"We, um, didn't sleep too well, and woke up early," Bertholdt says. "So we thought we'd just go out instead of lying in bed."

"Yeah, we went into town and bought some good shit," Reiner adds, raising the bag of alcohol. The clinking of bottles makes Jean roll his eyes.

"You didn't need to buy anything, Reiner, I could've got it for you," he says, but Reiner merely shrugs. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Sasha gasps when Bertholdt pulls out the bag of prawn crackers. "You bought those for me, Bertl? I love you so much!"

"No problem..."

She snatches the loot away from him before he can even turn towards her. Rubbing the back of his neck, Bertholdt closes his bag again and swings it by his side.

"I'm gonna start making breakfast, soon," Marco says. "I was thinking of making pancakes- you guys feeling like it?"

"That'd be amazing, Marco," Reiner says, and Bertholdt nods along. "Thanks!"

Jean leans forwards to peck Marco on the lips. "You're divine, baby. I'll go shout at the others to wake up- they're _not_ spending half the day in bed."

"I'll tell Ymir," Historia says. "She'll be grumpy, but she can nap on the beach."

"I don't even want to try with Eren," Armin says. "And you definitely shouldn't, Jean."

Cracking her knuckles, Mikasa heads towards the stairs. "I'll handle him."

They all exchange grins at this most ominous statement, even though they know they'll be dealing with a whiny Eren all day. 

Nobody needs to go and wake up Annie, because she appears at the top of the stairs at that very moment. Sasha waves at her and yells a most enthusiastic good morning, to which she gives a small smile. She ignores Reiner's attempt at a high-five.

"Good morning, Annie," Armin says. "We were saying how shocking it is that Bertl woke up before any of us."

Annie hums and approaches Bertholdt. "What'd you buy?"

"Just some chocolate. I got you the ones you like," Bertholdt mumbles. "We didn't get much stuff, though, we were mainly just walking and talking."

"Right. Thanks for the chocolate."

"We also got alcohol!" Reiner tells her. "You gonna get down with us?"

Annie side-eyes him. "I'd rather not."

As Reiner's shoulders slump, Bertholdt reaches out tentatively to cup Annie's face, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. Annie accepts the affection without comment, though she runs a thumb across his knuckles.

She doesn't seem angry about yesterday, or this morning. She seems neutral. Neutral is good.

All Bertholdt has to do is not make neutral worse, if he can't make it better. 

It's a tall order, for him, but he can manage it.

***

Though he initially expected their beach day to be anything but relaxing, Bertholdt finds himself pleasantly surprised by how calm he feels as he sits beneath the group's parasol in front of the sea. Only he and Ymir remained behind while the others went to splash each other in the water- Ymir rented a deck chair in the distance to nap (with Historia's sunhat lying across her face), so he's alone and in peace.

Bertholdt turns the page of his notebook, one already filled with scrawly handwriting. He's been steadily working away with his pen for the last forty five minutes- though he occasionally has to sit back and close his eyes to find the right word or picture the scene properly, it's the most consistent rhythm he's had with writing in a long time.

He can't help but feel pride as he keeps scribbling. Maybe he _will_ have something worth showing Reiner later, though he'll have to comb through it very carefully to make sure there aren't any grammar mistakes or awkwardly worded phrases. 

Perhaps the sound of the waves is lulling him into this mood. It's great background noise, blending with the scratching of his pen and making him feel at ease rather than hyperaware of his surroundings.

He's so at ease that he doesn't notice the person approaching him.

"What're you up to?"

Bertholdt jumps a mile out of his skin, instantly drawing his notebook close to his chest. Jean stands before him, dripping wet and rummaging through his bag for a towel. 

"Don't look so terrified," he says with a grin. "I wanna take a break from swimming for a while, Yeager keeps trying to drown me. What are you doing?"

"Oh, I- uhm... I was just..." Bertholdt blushes all over. "I was just doing some writing."

He expects Jean to snort, but he only tilts his head inquisitively. "Oh, that's cool, man! What about?"

This is Bertholdt's least favourite question in the world, because it means he has to explain himself using words, and he always realises how stupid his ideas are when he has to articulate them.

"It's just a dumb little thing," he says. "About, um... it's about reincarnation? It's not good, or anything."

_Oh, God, Jean's sitting down. And he's leaning in._

"That doesn't sound dumb at all," Jean says. He starts tracing shapes in the sand next to the blanket. "My grandmother used to be big on ideas of reincarnation. When she was sick, she was hardly worried at all- she said she was going to go onto a new life, and that one day she'd be back when all her old lives joined together again."

He doesn't sound sad, merely contemplative. But Bertholdt can only nod. He's too flustered to think of anything smart to say in response, which will probably make Jean think he's boring and-

"Can I see what you've written?"

_Oh my God._

"Don't get me wrong, you don't have to show it to me if you don't want to," Jean says. "But I'd love to read some of it."

"Uhm..." Bertholdt swallows. "I mean, I wrote it all now, so it won't be any good..."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Jean says. "Reiner's always told us good things about your writing. So, can I read?"

_Reiner's told people about it?_

"Um, okay... if you really want to." This is probably a bad idea. "Sure..."

Jean flashes him a smile. It's the most lowkey Bertholdt's seen him, not nearly as intimidating or arrogant or loudmouthed as he usually is, so he feels a very rare leap in confidence. He hands the book over.

 _The wait of shame._ That's what Bertholdt calls it when he has to watch people read his writing- though not many have, it still fills him with burning anxiety every time. Even the sound of the waves can't soothe his nerves. Bertholdt's hand jumps to his ring and he starts twisting it frantically, and he can't stop his eyes darting to and from Jean, who seems to be a slow reader. 

_Oh God, he's being slow because he finds it so boring he doesn't want to keep reading it. Or you've used excessive flowery language. Maybe every word is just so mind-bogglingly shit he needs time to comprehend_ _how nonsensical they all are_ _-_

After several agonising, horrifying minutes, Jean sets the notebook down.

_He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. He's going to say a few polite words and change the subject and never ask to see any of it again-_

"Wow," Jean says. "Wow, Jesus, that was amazing!"

_Huh?_

"So the two boys were child soldiers, in their past life? What were they fighting for, I wonder? But then I guess it doesn't really matter, they were still kids fighting a war that wasn't their fault, no matter what the cause was." Jean sits forwards eagerly. "That was so fucked up, the way they didn't even get a moment to sit and chat like normal kids without all of that stress weighing on them. And then they died like that, so meaninglessly, at only seventeen years old? That's messed up man, but then they got to have their quiet moments in their next life, I guess-"

Bertholdt gapes.

"But it doesn't really change that the first life still happened, and one of them still remembers it!" Jean bites his lip. "I still can't tell if the other remembers or not, because you don't talk from his perspective. I hope he doesn't, from what you described, he seemed to have it the worst of both of them. It's so sweet that the other boy just wanted him to be happy and take on the burden of those memories for himself. God, that was so fucking good."

Jean shakes his head thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands.

Bertholdt can't believe his ears. _Jean_ is saying to this to him. Jean Kirschtein.

"You... you liked it?" is all he can whisper.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucked me up," Jean says. "I had no idea you were that talented!"

At this point, Bertholdt has bypassed red and turned maroon. He doesn't have any words to answer what Jean has just said to him but, "Th- Thank you so much..."

"No problem. Man, that was great, I'd love to see more!" Jean says. His eyes light up, and he calls more loudly, "Hey, Annie, how comes you've never made Bertholdt show us his writing before?"

Bertholdt jolts as he realises Annie's walking through the sand towards them. Her eyes drift to the notebook and then to Bertholdt. 

"You showed Jean your writing?" Annie says.

"Y-Yeah..." Bertholdt says. "It was just, um... something small..."

"Small? If that's small, I want to see what big is," Jean says.

Bertholdt's eyes fixate on Annie. She's watching him carefully. 

He used to show her, too, before she got so busy. He stopped showing her his work just like he stopped showing Reiner, because he didn't want to bother her with his trivial works... Especially when she's always so...

Annie's expression is indecipherable as she runs a towel through her hair. Feeling an urge to do something with his hands, Bertholdt reaches out for his notebook and drops his eyes to it, not knowing what to say or do. 

"He writes really beautifully, doesn't he?" Annie says. Bertholdt's eyes widen. "He used to show me his work too."

"'Used to'?" Jean asks. "Not anymore?"

"Nope. Guess he doesn't trust me with it anymore."

Her tone is impossible to read, but Jean takes her words as a joke and snorts. "You do seem like you'd be a pretty intense literary critic, Leonhart."

"No, I do trust you, Annie..." Bertholdt says, but his words are swallowed up by a sudden sharp intake of breath from Jean.

"Oh- is that Yeager incoming?" he says. Indeed, it looks like Eren is scrambling from the sea in their direction. "Shit, he's not trying to drag me back in, is he? Yeager, stay the hell away from me! Bertl- again, your writing is really good!"

Before Bertholdt can thank him, Jean jumps up and makes to flee, leaving Annie and Bertholdt alone. Eren comes pounding through the sand a second later, shooting after him. 

Annie glances back at Bertholdt and the notebook.

"It's not that I don't trust you..." Bertholdt says softly. "I just didn't think you'd be interested in-"

"Quit mumbling, Bertl," Annie snaps. "Can't you ever speak up?"

 _Fuck, he's done it again._ "I... I- I just said that-"

His stuttering has always grated at her patience, but he can't help it. Despite being away from her for so long, he's _still_ managed to make her neutral worse.

"I'm going to lie down," she cuts through him easily. "They've all tired me out." 

"... Okay."

"Grab my earphones from the bag, will you?"

Bertholdt obliges. She plugs them into her phone and lies backwards onto the blanket, curling onto her side. 

The notebook rests on Bertholdt's lap. He watches her still form beside him and thinks about reaching for his pen and continuing his flow from before. 

But he knows he won't be able to write another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhh idk about that whole last scene. but i need to stop overthinking i am definitely a bertl
> 
> the idea behind thes tory bertl wrote is actually inspired by a fic called tacenda, by braunholdt, it's so good. me being very big brained by referencing the actual Reiner Bertholdt story 😏
> 
> anyway oof


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am a brit and soccer is not soccer it is FOOTBALL to me hahaha
> 
> thanks for all your comments on the last chapter, hope you enjoy this!
> 
> tw: heavily implied alcoholism

They weren't allowed a moment to relax when they returned from the beach. The second they stepped into the villa, damp and sticky from wading in the sea and being stuck in the heat, Jean clapped his hands together and announced that he was taking them out to dinner, ordering them to shower and get ready stat.

While everyone else showed enthusiasm at the prospect, Bertholdt couldn't help but feel nervous. He's always preferred the comforts of home, without crowds and noise and the deathly fear of interacting with waiters. But he smiled along anyway, because who wants to be the killjoy who'd prefer to sit in front of the television with home cooked pasta over getting a full course meal at a fancy restaurant?

Now he's here, he still feels slightly on-edge, eyes flickering around the vicinity to make sure nobody's looking in his direction- but at least this place isn't ridiculously expensive. Back home, Jean has taken them to establishments that have quite frankly felt illegal for Bertholdt to be near, but here it's more... homely. And it's not as loud as he expected.

Reiner sits next to him, scanning the wine section of the menu eagerly, and Historia sits on his other side. Annie is with Mikasa and Eren at the other end of the table.

It feels so wrong to think it, but the distance is almost a relief. Bertholdt knows he's an awful boyfriend for even entertaining the idea, but at least he won't be able to piss her off when she's so far away from him. Though, knowing how he can be...

"So you're saying we can order anything?" Reiner asks Jean, who's opposite him. "And it's all on you?"

"Yep," Jean says. He holds up a threatening finger before Bertholdt or Historia can open their mouths out of guilt. "I'll kill you if you even think about protesting."

Reiner doesn't seem to have any inhibitions at all, immediately flipping towards the most expensive wine pages. At Bertholdt's disbelieving look, he says, "What? I've been living off pure shit back home, I'm taking advantage of this as much as I can."

"I don't care about that. But do you think you could choose actual food before you go for the drinks?"

"I already have," Reiner says smugly. "I'm going for Penne Arrabbiata. Speed is of the essence, Bertl, I bet it'll take you another twenty minutes to decide what _you_ want."

"Oh, yeah? Just you wait and see how quickly I decide." Bertholdt looks down at the menu with great purpose in his heart- but finds himself floundering the moment he tries to make a rapid fire decision. "I'll get the... uhm... the.. uh..."

"I'm waiting," Reiner sings, leaning on him.

Fuming, Bertholdt tries to shove him off, but it's fruitless to ever try and resist Reiner.

Historia smiles sympathetically, as if the two men next to her aren't behaving like thirteen year old boys. "Don't worry, Bertl, I'm the same. There's always too much to choose from."

"Right?" Bertholdt says sheepishly, discreetly jabbing Reiner in the side when the weight increases too much on his bruised hip. "If all the options look good, what's the deciding factor? It's a lot of pressure."

"My God," Ymir says. "I'm guessing Annie picks the restaurants on date nights. Scratch that, I'm guessing Annie makes a lot of the decisions in your life."

She takes his embarrassed flush as his answer- she guffaws, and earns herself a stamp on the foot from Historia for being rude. Though she wouldn't have heard a thing, Bertholdt steals a glance at Annie from where she's sitting at the end of the table. Her hand is pressed against her chin and she isn't engaged in any conversation, instead gazing out of the window.

"Are you all ready to order?"

The sight of the waiter smiling politely at them sends a panic through Bertholdt. His eyes instantly jump to one of the cheapest and easiest options on the menu- a simple spaghetti carbonara, and a glass of water, that'll be fine... He recites it in his head. _Could I get the spaghetti carbonara and a glass of water, please?_

Sasha orders first, with great enthusiasm. The waiter scribbles for quite some time at her requests. The others go next, all ordering with complete confidence, because they're ordinary people. When the waiter's eyes fall on him, he takes a deep breath.

"CanIgetthespaghetticarbonaraandaglassofwaterplease?"

The waiter cocks an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, sir, I did not hear you."

Jesus Christ. Bertholdt swallows and tries to slow down. "Can I get the spaghetti carbonara, and a glass of water, please?"

He's mumbling again, and there's still bewilderment in their server's eyes. Before he can ask Bertholdt to repeat himself again, Reiner speaks up. "He asked for spaghetti carbonara and a glass of water."

"Ah!" The waiter nods and writes down Bertholdt's order, before moving onto Historia.

God, Bertholdt loves Reiner. So much. And he loves his friends for not making a big deal out of it or laughing at him- even Ymir tries to suppress her smirk. And Annie is still staring boredly away from the table, having not paid any attention to him. 

"You sure you don't want anything else, Bertl?" Jean says. "You could get an actual drink, you know."

"Um, yeah, I'm sure, it's okay," Bertholdt stutters. He's glad for the dim lighting of the restaurant, though his blushing has always been one of the most prominent things about him, second to his height. The people on the other side of the room can probably see how red he is. 

"He can always get something later if he wants it," Reiner says nonchalantly. "Ah, I hope they bring out the drinks quickly, I'm parched."

Bertholdt's still wrapped up in his embarrassment, but he always has time to roll his eyes at Reiner. "You enjoy that wine, Reiner, well-known for being thirst-quenching."

"Thanks, Bertl, I will!" 

The conversation swells as they wait for their food. Bertholdt fiddles with his cutlery and dips in and out of different discussions, without contributing much to any of them. From opposite sides of the table, Reiner and Connie start a passionate argument about who could win in a swimming race between them, and both of them vow to challenge each other the next time they go to the beach. Next to Bertholdt, Historia scolds Ymir for not wearing enough sunscreen when they go out- and she tries to ask for Bertholdt's opinion, much to his bewilderment. He's the last person Ymir would ever listen to.

"Sunscreen is good for you...?" he offers, under Historia's expectant look. 

"Thank you for the insight, Bertholdt, very helpful," Ymir says, and he shrinks in his seat.

"No, he's absolutely right, and you should listen to him! You might think you're immune to a lot of things, Ymir, but you are not immune to the sun-"

Bertholdt hastily turns his attention away from them, not wanting to be dragged into their little argument. His ears perk up when he hears Armin earnestly discussing to Marco what the best monuments to visit in Italy are... but they're too far away from him, and he'd never be able to raise his voice enough for them to hear him.

Sighing to himself, he decides to settle quietly and wait for the food to arrive- he doesn't feel like talking much, anyway.

His eyes flicker over to Annie again. She's talking to Mikasa and Eren now, as straight-faced as ever, but at least she's interacting with them. It's better than her withdrawing into herself for the evening... he chooses to ignore his own raging hypocrisy in that regard...

He looks away before she can catch him staring, and finds himself watching Jean, who's joined in on Connie and Reiner's argument and is giving his two cents on who _he_ thinks would win. The memory of earlier on the beach causes Bertholdt to blush again. He can't believe Jean Kirschtein of all people read his writing and enjoyed it, and actually had things to _say_ about it... He had cared enough to reflect on it...

"Ah, finally!" Reiner says under his breath, when a waiter arrives with a tray- there's two bottles of shiraz, Bertholdt's water, and Coke Zero for Armin. "Come to Daddy."

"You're not normal," Bertholdt tells him. He's grateful for the water, his mouth has started feeling dry. 

"You're right, I'm not. I'm sexy," Reiner says. He uncorks the shiraz and pours himself a liberal amount, before remembering the others exist and offering the bottle to them. 

When Annie takes a glass, she looks at Bertholdt for the first time that evening. Immediately Bertholdt gets the urge to look away, but he forces himself to level the stare, until she drops her gaze.

"Did you and Annie have a fight or something?" Reiner enquires, taking a gulp of his drink. With a start, Bertholdt realises he's been watching the whole time.

"N-No," Bertholdt says. He reaches for his pinky ring and fiddles with it. "We're fine, we just, um, didn't sit next to each other, I guess..."

"Mm. Getting into a fight on holiday would be pretty rough, huh?" Reiner says. "Wanna put bets on who's gonna to end up raging at each other first? Discounting Yeager and Kirschtein."

Bertholdt would rather do anything else in the world. Peering around the table sagely, Reiner says, "I'd go with... Historia and Ymir. Ymir always gets herself into hot water."

"I can hear you, you know," Ymir tells him. "I'm not that bad, am I, princess?"

Historia sniffs haughtily. "Well, considering as you won't listen to me asking you to do a simple thing like putting on sun-"

"Oh, my God, not this again," Ymir groans, and Historia looks indignant at the interruption. "Whoever ends up fighting each other first, I'm sure Jean will be involved somehow. He's the king of putting his foot in his mouth, he's gonna get everyone at his throat at some point."

Bertholdt feels a newfound defensiveness for Jean after how nice he was earlier, but he doesn't voice this opinion.

"No, you know what? It's gotta be Eren," Reiner says. "I love the guy, but he does not stop yelling. Look, he's yelling now."

They glance towards the man in question, who right now has Mikasa's hand over his mouth to quell his constant hysterics. 

"I vote Armin," Bertholdt offers quietly. "He's definitely the aggressive type."

Everyone laughs as the gentle blond looks towards them, blinking at the sudden attention on him.

"No, no- _Annie,_ " Reiner says. Bertholdt realises most of his wine is already finished. "That girl is full of ice-cold rage." 

"She's lucky she's with Bertl, then," Historia says with a faint smile. "They don't seem like the type to fight over anything."

"What's your secret?" Reiner asks him. 

_Jesus._ Laughing nervously (and not giving an answer), Bertholdt rubs the bridge of his nose and instantly tries to look for ways to change the direction of the conversation. Fortunately it ends naturally, as their food has arrived.

He dives upon his spaghetti at top speed, even quicker than Sasha. Reiner pours himself another glass of wine before even touching his cutlery.

The food is delicious, so much so that quiet settles among them as they focus on eating. In spite of it being a hasty choice, the spaghetti carbonara is divine and Bertholdt inhales most of it within minutes.

"This is fucking amazing," Reiner says, sitting back when half of his plate is cleared. "I haven't eaten this good in a long time. It's been all takeouts and instant noodles for me, recently. Thank God for Italy."

"Why?" Bertholdt says. "You're not a bad cook."

"Not bad? Don't make me laugh, Hoover, if I'm not bad, you're a travesty," Reiner says, but there's not much feeling there. "All the wonky hours I work means I can't be bothered for full meals, a lot of the time."

"Had any interesting clients, recently?" Historia asks. 

Reiner works as a contractor, doing jobs all over the city with his colleagues Porco, Pieck, Zeke and Colt. Bertholdt has heard many stories about the strange houses and apartments he's been to, and all the juicy relationship drama he's overheard through the walls, so he imagines Reiner has many tales to regale them with.

"None," Reiner says. "Nothing interesting at all."

"Oh," Bertholdt says, slightly disappointed- he loves the different voices Reiner puts on when acting as his clients. "Everyone's been vanilla?"

"Everyone's been vanilla," Reiner confirms. He takes another long draught of wine. "No exciting stories from me. If you want that stuff, ask Bertl or Annie. I'm like... that bit of tumbleweed you see in the movies, with crickets whistling in the background. But those two are high flyers, their careers are skyrocketing."

He punctuates his words with a chuckle, reaching out to squeeze Bertholdt's cheek in what Bertholdt presumes is meant to be pride.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bertholdt says. "High flyer my ass, I'm a civil servant, not a business tycoon."

"You're an author," Reiner chides him. "A star in the making!"

That goofy grin... he's definitely getting tipsy. Bertholdt sighs to himself and makes a mental note to cap Reiner at a certain number of drinks. Thankfully, Reiner spoke his last words quietly enough so only Bertholdt could hear them, so he isn't hit with embarrassing questions about his writing from all ends.

"I'm not an author, I don't have a single published word to my name," Bertholdt mutters. "Anyway, that stuff doesn't matter at all. You're the life of the party, smart as hell, funny, and way more fun than I ever could be. If you're tumbleweed, I might as well be a rotting corpse."

"He's right," Historia says. "I mean, not about Bertl being a rotting corpse and Reiner being way more fun- you're both equal levels of fun-!"

Ymir's eyes disappear to the back of her skull. "Give me strength..."

Reiner stares at Bertholdt long and hard, one hand clutching his glass and the other resting on the table. And then he smiles again, big and bright.

"The truth comes out!" he sings. "You can't complain about my behaviour anymore, because you secretly love it!"

"Oh, don't you even," Bertholdt says. "That is decidedly _not_ what you should take from that-"

"More wine!"

"Reiner!" 

"No complaining, Bertl! I'm the life of the party, let me do my thing!"

"Ugh! This is why I never compliment you, you big moron!"

"Oh, you've changed your tune! I thought I was smart as hell?"

"You're so _annoying!_ "

"You mean _funny?_ "

" _No!_ "

Laughter bubbles from those around them, they're all well-used to witnessing Bertholdt's exasperation at Reiner's foolishness. Though he manages to plaster on quite the vicious scowl, Bertholdt has to determinedly bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning at Reiner's cheeky smirk. The last thing he wants is to enable the idiot further.

But his eyes say it all anyway, it's impossible to restrain his affection. In all the bickering, he's able to forget his nerves for a little while, so he's grateful for this man.

So, so grateful. 

***

The second they leave the restaurant, Reiner makes it his mission to keep them all up. The night isn't over, it can't be over yet. He doesn't want to go to sleep, where Connie falls asleep immediately and leaves him lying awake with only the ceiling as company, so when they enter the house, he throws his hands to the glass sliding doors, where the pool lies outside. _Midnight pool party and drinks, guys!_

He's answered with cheers. Reiner feels guilty when he sees Bertholdt yawn, even more so when he puts on a smile and plays along as if he's not tired. His poor friend is so susceptible to even the most innocent peer pressure. 

The pool feels crowded with them all inside, but the cosy lighting and warmth serves to relax Reiner's tightened muscles. They pass around canned cocktails and glasses of vodka lemonades, and Marco sets up Spotify on the speakers in the background. Thankfully, Eren is banned from giving any music reccomendations.

Reiner drinks and lets his head slip away. He's not at the point where everything feels cloudy yet, and that's not good enough. His ears need to be buzzing, he needs to be laughing uncontrollably. He needs to stop being _aware_ of everything.

Like how aware he is of Bertholdt slipping out of the pool. Reiner hasn't seen him drinking anything at all, he must be feeling anxious that he's the only one who isn't buzzed. Even Armin has had a few.

He doesn't leave, though. Reiner's eyes follow his path across the side of the pool, and he realises Bertholdt is heading towards a football lying beneath some deckchairs. Ah... makes sense. He probably needs some space to breathe, to stretch out his legs.

Bertholdt pushes his foot beneath the ball and sends it into the air. He controls it wonderfully, bouncing it from foot to foot and chesting it, before catching it on his knee and letting it roll down again.

When they were children, everyone always assumed that Bertholdt, lanky and doleful and with his head always in a book, was a complete loser when it came to physical activity... But they were wrong. In football, he was skillful as all hell, and so he had always beat Reiner, who focused on brute strength whenever they played each other. His father taught him how to play, and had tried to impart his skills on Reiner too when he came around to play- before he got sick- but Reiner never quite had the agility for it. 

There's something beautiful about Bertholdt when he isn't self-conscious. He doesn't think anyone's eyes are on him right now because of how drunk they are, doesn't realise Reiner has watched his every move, so he moves without his usual stiffness. It's almost therapeutic to see how fluid his movements are, to see the rhythmic bouncing of the ball between his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Reiner notices something that distracts him from the display. It's Annie. She's been quiet, as per usual, but she actually has drunk with the rest of them. She sets down her vodka lemonade behind her and pushes herself out of the swimming pool, getting to her feet. Her eyes are on Bertholdt too. Reiner watches her curiously.

The only thing that betrays Annie's drunkenness is the slight tilt to her walk and her dilated eyes. Her face remains completely impassive- her cheeks don't get rosy like Bertl's, and she doesn't grin foolishly like he or Connie does. Only one person is better than her at concealing tipsiness, and that's Mikasa.

Bertholdt balances the football between his feet, before flicking it up into the air again. He doesn't notice Annie until she's right behind him- when he turns around he jumps, as though she's holding a machete, and the ball rolls away from him.

Reiner can see his mouth moving, but doesn't know what he's saying. He leans against his elbow, studying the blush on Bertholdt's cheeks, visible even from this distance. Bertholdt and Annie have been together for almost two years now, and he still gets so shy around her. Just like he did in the old days, when he (and eventually Ymir) had to fight relentlessly to get him to reveal how he felt about her. 

The way Annie's standing... yeah, it's clear to Reiner that she's drunk, now. She wobbles ever so slightly, even though her feet are planted firmly on the ground. He recognises the tells from their teen years, when they would share around a bottle of vodka in Bertholdt's tiny bedroom, because his father was always too tired to be particularly diligent and strict. She'd stand by his dusty window and stare out at the sky, and sway from side to side. A far more dignified sight than Reiner vomiting ceaselessly into Bertholdt's toilet.

Annie steps forwards and wraps her arms around Bertholdt's waist. The gesture seems to startle him, his arms remain by his side for a second, but the tension in his body eventually relaxes and he cards his fingers through her hair. Bertholdt's hands have always handled things with such delicacy- they're feather light and always impossibly gentle. 

He bends low to press his lips against her head. His thumb drifts against her cheekbone and settles against her temple. It's classic Bertholdt, that tender kiss to the top of the head is his favourite sign of affection. Reiner remembers being out of his mind drunk, having to be tucked into Bertholdt's bed in his dorm room at university- and receiving that kiss, the kiss that said, _I love you, and I'm here for you no matter what happens, no matter what you do._

This feels far too private to watch, but Reiner can't take his eyes off them.

Eventually Annie draws back. Her lips move too, and this time Reiner can make out what she's saying. _I'm sorry._

Bertholdt shakes his head. His thumb continues stroking her temple, he smooths back strands of hair that have fallen loose from Annie's bun. 

Huh. So they must have fought after all.

It's finally too much for Reiner, and his eyes fall away, back to the bottom of the pool. His body feels heavy, like something's pulling him down, rooting him to the spot so he can't move. 

There's only one solution.

"Sasha!" he yells. "Another one!"

Yet another bottle- Reiner's stopped counting by now- comes skidding towards him. He uncaps it and lets himself look at Bertholdt one more time. 

He and Annie are apart now. Annie has the football resting on her toes, and she bounces it up and down- if she's disorientated from being drunk, she doesn't show it. Bertholdt watches her with something in his eyes that's hard to decipher, especially when Reiner's vision has started to blur over.

Then his head shifts to the side. His gaze meets Reiner's. He smiles.

Reiner doesn't remove the bottle from his mouth for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone always writes bertl as the skinny nerd and reiner as the big buff sporty jock which. valid based off personalities but bertl faced off mikasa just fine and was a physical powerhouse so i am making him Talented At Football.
> 
> hngggg it's a lot of thoughts and stuff and the plot is very slow moving i am sorry. i just hope it is Enjoyable to Read this might be so boring. just to let you know i know you are all not dumb but i am anxious and i am scared that someone might think i'm romanticising bertl/annie and reiner drinking with the last scene and no i am not it is still not a good relationship at all and reiner is not being healthy.
> 
> im so sorry italians i picked food items off a prezzo's menu and i don't even know where they're on holiday in this fic just imagine it as a fictional town which has everything


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys- thank you all for your lovely comments last chapter! it's much appreciated! i hope you guys continue to enjoy reading :)
> 
> tw: physical abuse in the last section of the chapter

For the first time in a long while, Bertholdt wakes up feeling well-rested. It's felt like forever since he's been able to drift off completely, without jerking awake at four in the morning with inexplicable anxiety running through his body. 

He cracks open his eyes and gropes for his phone to check the time. It's 12:45... so he's been allowed to sleep in, without Annie or Jean kicking him out of bed. There are thirty two notifications from his chat with Reiner- presumably his friend was trying to wake him up like the other day, but fortunately Bertholdt had the foresight to put his phone on silent. He turns his phone off and places it back on the bedside table.

Shifting into an upright position, Bertholdt rubs some of the sleep from his eyes. Usually it takes him a lot longer to gain the energy to sit up, but he's slept in longer than he expected, and doesn't want to get yelled at. The space next to him is empty- Annie is already up and getting ready for the day, standing by the mirror and rubbing moisturiser onto her face. She has a tower draped over her head from her morning shower.

A pleasant jolt sparks in Bertholdt's stomach when he remembers what happened last night. She seemed _okay_ with him, all gentle and affectionate, not angered by any of his foolish actions. They played football with each other for a while, and when they got to bed, she actually curled into him, sharing in his warmth. She was definitely drunk, but... it was more than he could have hoped for. And she seems to be in a normal mood now, though she looks tired.

"Oh, you're awake," she says, when she notices him watching her. Her eyes flit towards him- Bertholdt sees that they're shadowed and slightly bloodshot. 

"Sorry," Bertholdt croaks. His voice is still rough and sleepy, so he clears his throat a little. "Have you been up for long?"

"Not really," Annie says. "I got up about twenty minutes ago. Jean will be on our case soon, though, so hurry up and get ready."

"Right... I'll be quick, sorry."

He swings his legs out of bed, trying to ignore his residual sluggishness. Annie squeezes his elbow when he gives her a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

"Oh- Bert?" she calls, when he heads towards the bathroom. "Get me some painkillers, will you?"

"Sure," Bertholdt says. "What's up, are you feeling okay?"

"Got a headache, I'm hungover as all hell," she says. "I don't know what the hell we were all drinking last night."

With a rueful smile, Bertholdt says, "There was a ton of vodka. Even Armin got in on the action. I didn't feel like it, though, so... no hangover for me, ha..."

"Lucky you."

Annie takes the pills from him and cracks one out of the packet. Bertholdt reaches for one of the large bottles of water they all keep with them and hands it over to her. 

"I don't know how Reiner can put up with feeling like this all the time, he must be miserable," she says, downing two aspirin. "I barely remember what happened last night."

"Oh..." Bertholdt says, taking the water bottle and pills back from her. "What... what do you remember?"

"Sitting in the pool and drinking," Annie says with a shrug. "That's about it."

Ah.

Bertholdt knows it's pathetic to feel so disappointed, but his stomach drops, as does his gaze. So... everything she did yesterday, the hug, the apology, playing ball with him... she doesn't remember any of that.

He doesn't know why he's surprised. Annie has always forgotten things after drinking. And just because she doesn't remember the specifics, it doesn't mean he can't still feel happy that last night happened- 

"Bert?" she says, arching an eyebrow at him. "Why aren't you going to get ready?" 

"Sorry," he says quickly, because now all the good will he thought he had is gone. "Sorry, I'm- I'm going."

A yell rings from outside their door just as Bertholdt goes to grab his towel. "Bertholdt! You better not be enjoying your beauty sleep still, everyone's waiting for you!"

It's Reiner, thank God, and not Jean, so Bertholdt can yell back without restraint. "Shut the hell up, I'm coming!" 

"Hurry it up! And tell your girlfriend to shift her ass too!" Bertholdt cringes viscerally, he can almost hear Reiner's shit-eating grin- how can he even be this frenetic, with all he drank last night? "Annie, shame on you, I didn't think you were the type for such indulgent laziness!"

Bertholdt is surprised Annie's eyes don't burn a hole through the door right then and there. "Choose your words very carefully, Braun. I have a hangover, and I also have fists to punch you with."

"Calm down, Annie, it was just my little joke!" Reiner sings. "And Bertl, I know you've been ignoring my messages! I sent you funny videos, go and watch them!"

The retort hanging off Bertholdt's lips quickly falls away when he catches Annie's expression. Okay, he really needs to go and shower. "I'll watch them later!"

He speeds off to the bathroom before Reiner can pull him into another stupid conversation, and before Annie can lose her temper.

The sheer embarrassment of knowing that everyone is waiting for him enables him to shower, brush his teeth and get dressed at top speed. When he emerges from the bathroom, Annie sits at the foot of the bed, having thankfully not left him to go downstairs on his own.

"Sorry for taking so long," he says, rushing to find clothes- how many times he's apologised this morning, he doesn't know. "Was Reiner annoying you?"

"He kept knocking on the door, but when I opened it he ran away," Annie says wryly. "He was never one for bravery."

Bertholdt rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

He and Annie are met by over-exaggerated scolding from Connie, Sasha, Ymir and Reiner when they arrive downstairs- it's mostly aimed at Bertholdt, because he's exceptionally easy to fluster, while Annie merely gives her usual deadpan stare. His repeated apologies for oversleeping get muffled by Reiner pulling him into a headlock. 

_"Will you keep it down?"_ Eren explodes, from where he's lying face down on the kitchen table. His hair is sticking up all over the place. "Your voices are like cannons in the back of my skull..."

"Well, well, it looks like Jean isn't the only one with a hangover," Marco murmurs, earning himself an indignant look from his boyfriend. "Good morning, Bertholdt, you don't need to apologise. We all know how hard it is to wake you up when you're out."

"Yeah, and it's not like you guys aren't lazy shits in your own way," Jean says. He looks just as dishevelled as Eren, with his hair messy and his eyes droopy. "Leave him alone." 

"These are some _shocking_ double standards," Ymir says. "Why does Bertholdt get to-"

"Because he's nicer than all of you," Jean interrupts her. "That's why. Anyway, there's leftover bacon and toast on the table, you guys can grab what you want."

Prising himself free of Reiner's grip, Bertholdt smiles at Jean, and follows Annie to the table. The food has cooled down, but he has no room to complain.

"Anyway, today we're heading into the old town," Jean announces. "Armin, Bertholdt and Historia will get to look at their buildings. Before you all start complaining, there's a really good gelato place there, and we can get lunch while we're out."

Armin beams. "That sounds amazing!"

"It sounds terrible," Eren groans. "I just wanna lie down... With a cold compress..."

"The fresh air will clear your head," Mikasa tells him sternly. "I told you you wouldn't be able to stomach that much alcohol, it's your own fault you feel this way."

Sniggers pass through the group, and Eren whines, " _Mikasa!_ " 

"Do you want some of my special hangover drink, Eren?" Sasha calls over to him. "I can whip it up in an instant- all I need is garlic, diet coke, olives, coffee beans and mint leaves!" 

"That's... okay, Sasha," Eren says. "I think I'd rather take the headache. Scratch that, I think I'd rather die."

His last words are spoken so quietly that Sasha doesn't hear him- she shrugs and says, "Your loss!"

"It actually kind of works," Connie says sagely. "When I tried it, I threw up all my stomach lining, but I didn't really have a headache anymore..."

"Yeah... I still think I'll pass."

Reiner slaps Eren's back, so hard it sends him sprawling forwards. "You're a big boy now, Eren, haven't you learned to cope with hangovers yet?"

"I'm not good with spirits!" Eren whines.

"He's also not as... durable as you," Armin says, with a touch of amusement. 

Having not paid a jot of attention to the conversation around him, Bertholdt smiles earnestly to himself. Even though he's likely to be subject to the others whining the whole time, he can't wait to see the old town. He'll have to remember to grab his camera before he leaves... Armin sent him some pictures of the local cathedral, and it looks beautiful. 

"Look at you, all hyped up to see some old buildings," Reiner teases, sitting down and lightly headbutting Bertholdt's shoulder."I don't get why you guys are so obsessed with big-ass churches, too, they just creep me out."

"That's what makes them cool," Bertholdt says. He peers at his friend closely. "Are you really not hungover? You made it through more drinks than any of us."

"Ah, Bertl, my sweet boy, when you've had as many hangovers as I've had, you learn to embrace them."

"You concern me."

"Looks like Annie hasn't learnt to endure like me," Reiner teases, turning his attention to where she's struggling to finish off a piece of bacon. "You alright over there, Leonhart? You look like you're about to drop."

Indeed, Annie looks beyond tired, but that doesn't make her any less terrifying. "If you keep asking me questions, I'll make you drop."

Reiner raises his hands in self-defense and sits back. So he has some self-preservation instinct after all.

Bertholdt smiles vaguely at the two of them, but he also can't help but feel a vague sadness when he looks at the hungover Annie. The reminder that she doesn't remember last night... it still stings.

"What's that look for?" she asks, squinting at him. 

"N- Nothing," Bertholdt says, returning his attention hastily to his toast. 

"Stare-tolt," she murmurs, and he blushes- but her voice is light. "Looking forward to today?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I am," he says. "But, um, sorry you have to go around and look at all this stuff because of us... I know you find it boring."

Annie shrugs. "I find a lot of things boring. Doesn't mean you don't get to enjoy them."

"I- I guess you're right," Bertholdt mumbles. His voice is very low, even though Reiner isn't listening to them anymore, instead teasing Eren for his drunken behaviour last night.

"Plus, there'll be gelato," Annie says. "That's good enough for me. And a walk will probably help with the hangover."

Bertholdt smiles. "Yeah."

"Remember to bring the camera. It's in one of the big suitcases," she tells him. "I know you'll want to keep a record of all this."

"I will. Th-Thanks. For reminding me."

Annie hums, and reaches out for a slice of toast. It takes all of Bertholdt's willpower not to stare at her, and even more to silence the little voice inside him that wishes she would be like this all the time, so he can stop feeling so confused by her.

***

The old town is beautiful, so much so that even Eren doesn't complain as they trek down the cobblestones. It's surprisingly vibrant, too, with a bustling of tourists searching for the picturesque church in the centre of the network of streets. 

Bertholdt is sure he'll be all out of camera storage by the end of the day with how many photos he's taken, but he's so thrilled by everything he sees that he can't help but click away. Everything emits so much charm, and he's sure he can pore over the photos later and reflect some of the atmosphere in his writing. 

"Wow, Reiner, you're in almost all of these," Bertholdt says, as they all sit by a fountain for some rest. He's checking through the photos he's taken so far- Reiner jumped in at the last second for many of them, but somehow he still manages to look photogenic, always wearing a camera-ready grin. "Attention whore, much?"

"You'll get all of these framed, mark my words," Reiner says lazily, leaning against Bertholdt's shoulder to look at his photos. "Oh, God, Connie, that's not a good look."

"What'd you mean?" Connie demands, jumping over. It's a picture he begged Bertholdt to take of him standing by a stained glass window. "My big beautiful grin can never look- okay, wow, that's terrible. Bertl, you did me dirty!"

Bertholdt laughs sheepishly, hurriedly moving on from the goofy photo. The next one is of Annie, standing by a wall of street art. Her smile is almost imperceptible, but it's there, Bertholdt recognises the slight crease to her eyes.

"Damn, I bet she had no problems taking her passport photo," Reiner says. "Not even a twitch of the lips."

"It's pretty," Bertholdt says. He rolls his eyes when Reiner pretends to gag. "Oh, stop being a fucking child, you're twenty six."

"Romance," Reiner says, with an affected shudder. "You gonna show it to her?"

"Later, maybe," Bertholdt mumbles. He glances over at her- she's talking to Historia on the other side of the fountain.

"Okay, well, move on! I want to see more of my beautiful face!" 

Bertholdt glares at him, but flicks forwards. The next one is of Mikasa and Armin- Armin is beaming at the camera, while Mikasa wears the same face she always does in photos- a vague, mysterious smile.

"I don't know how she does it," Reiner sighs. "She even looks like this in her baby photos."

"She's like Levi," Bertholdt says. "In every team photo ever taken, he's never once changed his expression. Runs in the family, I guess. At least Mikasa smiles."

Levi is Bertholdt's boss, head of his government department back in Trost, and Mikasa's cousin. Mikasa is no beacon of warmth, but she's a positive ray of sunshine compared to him.

Before he can look at the next photo, Marco stands up and waves at them all. "Anyone feeling like gelato?" 

There's an immediate cheer. Reiner beams. "Hell yeah, straciatella time! Let's look at the rest of the pictures back at the villa, Bertl."

Bertholdt nods, stowing away his camera in his bag. He's even worse at picking dessert than he is at picking meals in a restaurant, because his sweet tooth is tempted by absolutely _everything,_ so he'll probably have to pick his gelato flavour at random.

When they set off from the fountain, Reiner bounds forwards to tease Connie about something or another, leaving Bertholdt alone for a second. Just after he leaves, though, someone else falls to walk beside him- Marco.

"Hey there," he says. "We haven't talked much since we got here. How's it going?"

"Oh- good! It's going well," Bertholdt says, shaking off his surprise quickly. "How about you?"

Marco's freckled cheeks dimple from his smile. "I'm doing good. Really, really good. I've been having a great time here."

"I'm glad to hear it," Bertholdt says. He fiddles with the strap of his rucksack. "Thank you so much to both you and Jean for bringing us here- it's been so nice."

"You're sweet. I didn't do anything, though," Marco says. His eyes flicker over to the front of the group, where Jean and Sasha are chatting. "It was all Jean, he came up with this whole idea."

Bertholdt nods, kicking at some of the cobblestones as he walks along. "I really need to find something to give back to him."

"He wouldn't accept it," Marco says. "He's bullheaded like that."

"I know," Bertholdt sighs. "I just feel bad. I wish there was anything I could do."

"Maybe you could show him some more of your writing," Marco suggests lightly.

Eyes widening, Bertholdt stammers, "H-Huh?"

"He was raving about it," Marco says. "He said you wrote so well, and that he felt like you didn't even know it. But he said that he thought you'd be uncomfortable if he asked for more, because you seemed so shy about it."

Once again, Bertholdt is at a loss for words. Marco seems to understand, giving him a kind smile.

"Don't worry, you don't need to feel pressured into showing him, or anyone else, for that matter," he says. "I just thought you might like to know. Jean should've said it all to you, not to me."

"N- No... it's okay, he was really nice about it when I showed him..." Bertholdt mumbles. "I just... didn't really expect..."

"I'm sure you're really good, Bertholdt," Marco says. "It's not easy to get my boyfriend's seal of approval, you know. And for what it's worth, I'd love to read your work too, if you ever feel willing to show me anything."

There's nothing Bertholdt would like to do more than burrow under the road. Compliments have always been his worst enemy, he's never known how to deal with them without sounding like an incomprehensible fool.

"Th- Thank you so much, Marco," he mumbles. "I'm grateful to Jean, too, he's been too kind... And, um- I might have some things I could show you..."

"That's great. No pressure." Marco's smile is beyond soothing, and relaxes some of Bertholdt's tension. 

Bertholdt is only good with writing words, not verbalising them, so yet again, he can't think of anything else to say in his flustered state. Marco doesn't push anything, though- he's content to walk quietly, humming under his breath and looking around the streets of the old town curiously. Bertholdt twists his ring around his finger, all too aware of how hot his face is, and not from the Italian sunshine.

"Gelato!" Sasha cries, upon their arrival outside the shop. It looks far too crowded for the twelve of them. 

"We'll take it in turns to order, three of us can go in at a time," Marco says. "Who's going in first-?"

Sasha disappears inside the cafe before he can finish talking, with Connie and Jean right behind her. "Well, okay, then, that decides that."

"Fuck, I need this." Reiner's back by his side, and Annie's there too. "I'm getting the largest helping I can, I swear to God."

Bertholdt nods, still feeling slightly giddy from what Marco said to him. Reiner notices his fidgeting, and places a hand on his elbow.

"What happened?" he says. "You good, man?"

Bertholdt looks from Reiner's concerned expression to Annie's expectant one. He could tell Reiner about what Marco said with no worries, but then he remembers how Annie looked at the beach yesterday, when she found out he showed Jean his writing and not her. If she finds out his conversation with Marco, she's bound to get upset again...

"Just, um... nervous about ordering." It's a very believable lie, considering Bertholdt's general personality. "That's all."

"Don't worry about a thing, Bertl, I'll ask for you," Reiner says immediately. "You don't even have to go in, if you don't want to. Just wait out here and I'll get yours."

An unbearable surge of affection comes across Bertholdt, so strong that he feels like wrapping his best friend up in a hug and never letting go. But that would be rather pathetic, and he feels nervous with Annie watching him, so he merely nods. "Thank you, man."

"No problem," Reiner says. "Apart from one. You have to decide what you want in the time it takes everyone to get their gelato."

"Oh, shit, you're right! I haven't even seen the menu!"

"... Buckle up, Annie," Reiner sighs. "We're gonna be here for a while."

***

In an unusual expression of goodwill, Reiner offers to cook their dinner for the night upon their return to the villa, seeing as they ate out for lunch. They all agree to the offer, considering that Reiner is a damn good cook, loathe as they are to admit it to him (out of fear of his ego). 

Bertholdt and Annie linger by him as he rustles up their food, while everyone else disappears into the pool or in front of the television. The sun is setting outside, casting a pleasant glow over the kitchen. It's relaxing to watch Reiner chop vegetables, with the pan sizzling and an Italian radio station playing faintly in the background.

"Oi, Bertl, make yourself useful and peel these," Reiner says, pointing at a pile of carrots. "I'd ask Annie to do something, but there are sharp knives in here, so... I'll refrain."

"Good decision," Annie says. She's sitting at a stool by the counter and flicking through her phone.

Bertholdt takes up a peeler and picks up one of the carrots. He's only mildly competent at cooking (in Reiner's mind, that means he's terrible) but he enjoys how consuming kitchen work can be. Each carrot he skins takes up all of his focus.

"I should've gone to the shops and bought some more spices, this is a _real_ bland cabinet," Reiner says, wrinkling his nose as he checks the cupboards. "Remind me when we go next time, okay? I also need to replenish my Quadratini supply."

"You've finished them all?" Bertholdt says. "You only bought the bag yesterday."

"Such delicious sustenance was never going to last long."

Shaking his head, Bertholdt reaches for another carrot from the fast depleting pile. He's quite the efficient peeler, if nothing else. "You didn't offer me a single one."

"Get your own bag, you can't steal my beauties from me," Reiner says. He picks out some of the pots of spices with a dejected sigh. "Hmm... I guess I'll have to make do with these for today. At least Armin won't complain, he can't stick spicy food."

"He cries at medium spiced chicken," Bertholdt says. "So you can't go scattering chillies in your cooking like you usually do."

"You're only saying that because _you_ don't like chillies," Reiner says. "Your palate isn't refined enough. Now, _Annie_ can take spices."

Annie tilts her head, not looking up from her phone. "He's right, Bert. I can handle them much better than you."

"Wow, okay," Bertholdt mutters. "I was talking about Armin, but you guys had to turn on me."

"We do it because we love you," Reiner says. "I just want my best friend to be a big boy and develop his tastebuds-"

He's unable to finish his sentence, as Bertholdt gathers a pile of carrot skins and throws it in his face. Spluttering, Reiner reaches for a rolling pin hanging from the wall and goes to club him with it.

They don't get to start a proper fight, though, because at that moment, Annie slips down from her spot on the counter. Her phone is ringing.

"Annie?" Bertholdt says, his arms still flung up over his face to protect himself. "Who is it?"

There's no response. Annie's face says it all, though, as does her rapid retreat from the kitchen.

Reiner glances at Bertholdt, eyebrows creased. "Her father?"

"I- I think so," Bertholdt says. His stomach tenses, all the fun in the atmosphere has drained away instantly. "I wouldn't ask her, though. Please don't ask her, Reiner."

"Okay, I won't," Reiner says. "I'll stay in my lane, Bertl, don't worry."

He presses a reassuring hand against Bertholdt's shoulder. Swallowing hard, Bertholdt turns back to his carrots, but sees that they're all done. 

"Peel these," Reiner says quickly, gesturing towards a bag of potatoes. "And don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Bertholdt can only hope so. He jumps on the potatoes with a vigour, skinning them rapidly, trying to stop his hands from trembling. 

Several minutes go by. Sasha arrives in the kitchen to grab a snack from the fridge, stopping to steal a carrot on her way out. Bertholdt finishes peeling the potatoes, leaving his hands empty again. He resorts to fidgeting with his ring again, the one thing he can never stop doing, no matter how annoying the habit is.

"It's been a while," Reiner says, when more and more time passes. "Do you think she's okay...?"

Bertholdt bites his lip. "I'll go and check."

Annie hates it when he intrudes, hates it when he shows pity towards her, but he's so worried that he has to go. Reiner nods at him solemnly as he departs from the kitchen. The sky is deep and pink and beautiful, now, but the sight doesn't soothe Bertholdt as he hurries along the side of the villa. 

He finds her standing by the vines, hands hanging by her sides. Her phone is in her hand, which means her call has ended.

Trepidation slows down Bertholdt as he approaches her. He takes a deep breath, getting ready to speak-

"What?" she snaps, before he can say a word. "What do you want?"

"I just..." Bertholdt stutters, taken off-guard. "I just- just wanted to see... if you were okay?"

"I'm fine," Annie snarls. "Completely fine."

She's the furthest thing from it, but her tone of voice stops Bertholdt from pointing that out. Instead, he whispers, "Was it him?"

"Yes," Annie says. "It was."

No explanation. She's seething, it's evident in the very way she's standing, so of course she wouldn't reveal any of the details to him. Not when she's shaking so hard.

"I'll be back later," she says. "Just leave me alone."

The last thing Bertholdt would dare to do is protest. "Okay. Okay, I will."

He turns to leave, all kinds of alarm bells are ringing off inside him. But he knows he has to leave and give her time to cool, or she's liable to completely explode. 

A slim-fingered hand wraps around his wrist like a vice and yanks him backwards before he can leave. Bertholdt's eyes blow wide and his breath catches in his throat- but just as quickly he gets a grip on his composure, forcing down any feeling of panic. He turns his head back towards Annie.

"Don't you dare tell him," she says, her eyes flashing furiously. Her nails dig into his arm. "Not a single word."

"I won't, I promise," Bertholdt breathes. "I wouldn't."

Her grip tightens. "I mean it, Bertholdt."

"Annie, please, I won't, I really won't-"

"You did last time," she hisses. "I don't want Reiner asking any questions, okay?"

"He- he-" Bertholdt gasps as she twists his wrist backwards. "He won't! I won't tell him! Please, I promise!"

It takes a lot of restraint to remain quiet- Annie does not lack strength, and it _really_ hurts- he only just manages it. Annie keeps his arm in that position for a few more moments, and then her grip loosens, and she releases him.

There's a livid mark against his skin from where she grabbed him. Bertholdt's hand jumps to his wrist, rubbing at the sore spot.

She's turned away from him now, facing the wall. Bertholdt can see from the way she's trembling that she's overwhelmed, but he knows far, far better than to approach her. It'll only end with her feeling worse.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. Annie doesn't look at him, doesn't say anything as he leaves as quickly as possible, hand still gripping the wrist she twisted so viciously.

Every bit of fleeting peace gets destroyed. A happy night, she doesn't remember it. A relaxing afternoon, her father calls ands ruins it.

This holiday was supposed to be a break from it all. But Bertholdt knows he was naive to ever expect that things would work in their favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to think of levi as being ron swanson from parks and rec in this fic's world. and erwin can be like the town mayor or something. look at me doing worldbuilding lmao
> 
> hope that last scene wasn't too over-the-top and doesn't feel exaggerated :/ i hope i'm managing to keep the characters measured at least
> 
> hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i know like everyone came onto this fic wanting to read a light hearted holiday romp lmao, and here i am pulling out angst and shit, i'm sorry to you all eisughiurghierghiu there will be more comedic and calm business later i promise. i've been pretty damn depressed recently i can't lie so i forced myself through this one and that's why it's angsty and also weirdly paced, sorry if it's not good.
> 
> tw: reiner's alcoholism

After half an hour goes by, Reiner assumes Bertholdt and Annie aren't returning to the kitchen.

It would be silly for him to start worrying over them. They're Bertholdt and Annie, always there to take care of one another- as long as they have each other, things will be _fine_. Bertholdt is probably comforting Annie right now, with his infinite patience and gentle words. They'll get through this, so Reiner shouldn't fret. All he needs to do is finish making their dinner, they'll be back soon.

Unfortunately, Reiner isn't the biggest fan of being alone with his thoughts. The only person he enjoys comfortable silence with is Bertholdt, and a single minute of attempting any kind of mindfulness would probably kill him. While others might enjoy an opportunity to get time for themselves, right now it only agitates him. 

Oh well. Hennessey is always good company. 

Guilt is beyond him at this point- plus, there are so many bottles of alcohol around that a single missing one won't even be noticed. Reiner mixes himself a cognac and coke, lying to himself that it'll be his only one, takes a hearty gulp, and returns to his cooking.

It all smells so good, and reminds Reiner of just how long it's been since he's been able to keep himself busy in the kitchen. Chicken nuggets, instant noodles and microwave kebabs are about the only things he can manage these days, apart from when Bertholdt comes around. On those days Reiner shows off and cooks up an extravaganza, partly to tease Bertholdt for his relative ineptitude in the kitchen, partly because his best friend makes everything easier for him. With Bertholdt he can chatter away to his heart's content- their conversations run the gamut from absolutely idiotic to startlingly profound, and they're never not entertaining. Somehow Reiner gets the energy to chop and peel vegetables when he's around, even if he's exhausted from a day of fixing leaky ceilings and painting sheds, or staring at the TV for hours with beer as his only company. 

Reiner reaches for his glass again, and realises it's empty.

He grabs the bottle again.

What does it even matter? He's on holiday. 

After another glass, he's finally finished with their meal. He grins at his artistry. Risotto has always been a killer of his, they'll all have to admit to him they love it, as much as they try and pretend they don't.

Armin appears in the kitchen, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He looks like he's just emerged from the shower.

"Oh, Reiner, is it finished?" he says, approaching the pot over the stove. "It smells absolutely delicious."

"Yep, s'all done!" Reiner says cheerfully, opening drawers to find a serving spoon. "I know it took a while, but you know what they say... Venice wasn't built in a week."

"Rome wasn't built in a day _,_ " Armin corrects him, and Reiner frowns, wondering how he managed to get every part of that saying wrong. "But anyway, I bet the food will be amazing, as per usual!"

He and Historia are the only nice ones out of the bastards, even Reiner's best friend in the world refuses to enable his self-praise.

"You betcha, it'll change your _whole_ perspective on life," Reiner says, stretching his hands out to demonstrate just how widespread the impact of his cooking will be. And then something occurs to him. "I didn't make anything for dessert, though... Should I have made something for dessert? Was everyone expecting me to make dessert? Oh my God, I didn't make dessert."

Armin raises his hands placatingly as Reiner grips his shoulders. "Don't worry! The freezers are crammed with ice cream, that'll be just fine. What you've done is amazing!"

"Right... Yeah, right. Ice cream." Reiner releases Armin and turns back to the cutlery drawer. "That's good. That'll be fine."

"You've done great," Armin assures him. "Anyway, Reiner..."

Reiner pauses with his hand closed around a spoon- Armin's lips are moving, but it feels like he's speaking more quietly than usual, like his voice is muffled, so Reiner can't quite catch what he's saying. "Sorry, Armin, could you repeat that?"

"Oh, um, I asked where Bertholdt and Annie are?" Armin says. "You said you were making Bertholdt help you with the cooking, and Annie was with you guys too, so..."

"Ohhhh," Reiner says. Bertholdt and Annie definitely wouldn't want Reiner to tell Armin that Annie's dad upset her, so he comes up with something quickly. "Right! Annie got bored of us and went to her room, and Bertl went to take a call. You know my beautiful Bertl, my amazingly talented and wonderful best friend, he's a massive government hotshot, super important, everyone's always after his time. Levi called him. You know Levi, he's Mikasa's cousin!"

"I... I do know Levi, yes," Armin says. "Um, Reiner... are you feeling alright?"

"Of course I am!" Reiner says. "Are _you_ feeling alright? You can tell me anything, man."

Armin gives a most awkward chuckle. "Oh, I'm fine, Reiner, don't worry about me. Can I ask... have you been drinking?"

Giving a theatrical gasp and clapping a hand over his heart, Reiner says, "What- me? No way! Have _you_ been drinking, Armin? I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"No, no, I haven't been- you know what, just forget about it," Armin says hastily. His gaze drifts past Reiner to his recently finished glass and the open bottle of cognac. "Do you want me to call everyone over here to eat? And I can help set the table."

"Please and thank you, Armin," Reiner says. "I love you, man."

With a slightly nervous laugh, Armin hurries out to go and call the others. The second he's gone, Reiner falls against the counter and inhales deeply, in an attempt to counter the sudden wave of dizziness that washes over him.

He's okay. Maybe a little buzzed, but that's a good thing! 

It's still warm outside, so when Jean arrives, he suggests they eat out in the garden. Reiner picks up the pot of risotto and hugs it to his chest as he carries it to the table, because he doesn't entirely trust that he won't drop his evening's work onto the ground.

Everyone gives an appreciative smile at the sight of Reiner's cooking, having waited a long time to eat. Even Jean pats him on the back. 

"This looks pretty good," Ymir says, peering at the dish with mild approval. "Guess you're good for some things, eh, Braun?"

"Thank you for this, Reiner," Marco says, as he sets out cutlery. "It was really kind of you to offer to cook for us."

"It's tiring as all hell to cook all this, so this won't be a regular thing. Enjoy my kindness and exquisite cuisine while you can," Reiner says. He ignores their collective exasperation, instead brightening up at the newest arrival. "Oh, hey! Bertl, you're here!"

He accidentally hits Connie in the nose with how enthusiastically he starts waving.

Bertholdt steps out into the garden, smiling faintly at Reiner. It's only been a couple of hours since they last saw each other, but it's been boring without him, and it's good to see he's okay. From what Reiner can see- his vision is _slightly_ blurry- Bertholdt looks the same as ever, if a little tired. And he's changed his clothes, wearing a long-sleeved top, even though it's still warm out. But Bertholdt has always loved long sleeves, as a kid he would tear many of his jumpers by pulling the sleeves over his hands when anxious. He's doing it now.

"All okay?" Reiner says, slapping his shoulder (a little harder than intended, Bertholdt winces). 

"Yeah... everything's fine," Bertholdt murmurs. "I'm sorry I bailed on you- it was-"

"Don't worry about a _thing_ ," Reiner cuts him off, because if there's one thing he hates, it's Bertholdt saying sorry about things he doesn't need to apologise for. "I get it."

Bertholdt gives a small, grateful nod, before turning to the food that Mikasa is dishing out. "I'm surprised you managed to finish this, without me there to help you."

"Oh, yeah, it was difficult to replace your single skill of vegetable peeling. I don't know _how_ I managed," Reiner sighs, and Bertholdt rolls his eyes. "Where's Annie? Is she good?"

"Oh, um-"

"Never mind!" Reiner interrupts him again, because Annie appears moments after his question. "Speak of the devil, she's here! Hey there, Leonhart!"

After a glass or three of cognac, talking becomes very fun and necessary for Reiner. It never is for Annie. She completely ignores him, instead going to sit at the furthest end of the table, next to Historia.

"Reiner," Bertholdt says quietly. "It's best to leave her."

"Hm? Oh, right!" Reiner gasps, clapping a hand over his mouth. "My bad! I forgot- I shouldn't say anything to her. Don't worry, Bertl, these lips are sealed. Sealed!"

Bertholdt frowns. "Hey, man, you sound weird. Are you-"

His voice is drowned out by a sudden commotion from the centre of the table. Connie has just popped open a bottle of champagne without any consideration for the people around him, and the cork hits Eren's forehead. It takes both Sasha and Mikasa considerable effort to stop Eren shoving the cork down his throat.

"For once in your lives, could you all _try_ and have dinner like civilised people?" Jean complains at top volume. "You're all adults!"

"I don't know why _you're_ talking," Ymir says. "You've got an even shorter fuse than Yeager. Among other short things."

" _What_ was that?"

"Please don't prove her point, baby," Marco implores with him. "Just sit down. _Sit._ And you guys! Reiner, Bert, come on!"

Reiner grins at Bertholdt. "Come on and enjoy my culinary delights, Bertl."

He grabs Bertholdt's hand and pulls him over to sit down, before Bertholdt can get out another word. Reiner tries to ignore Armin's gaze in his peripheral vision as he almost misses his seat.

The edges of his world are fuzzy, and his legs are wobbly. And he has an insatiable urge to touch somebody, so he leans in to give Bertholdt a spontaneous hug. It's reciprocated with wariness.

"Are you okay?" Bertholdt says when Reiner pulls back and beams at him. "I can smell alcohol on you. How much have you had?"

"Ugh, Bertl." Reiner's grin turns into a grimace. "I only had a little one. A _tiny_ one. Barely a sip. Please don't mother me."

Bertholdt studies him carefully. It's suddenly absolutely impossible for Reiner to maintain eye contact- a strange role reversal. "You've been drinking quite a lot, recently. Should I be worried?"

" _No._ You should never, ever worry about me, you worrying is the last thing I want," Reiner says. He starts shifting in his seat restlessly. "I've told you a million times, I'm just kicking back and relaxing, it's not a deal. I mean, it's no big deal."

"Hey, Reiner, pass your glass over!" Sasha calls, from where she's pouring out champagne. "Bertl, you want some?"

"No thanks," Bertholdt says. "Have some water, Reiner. Now."

It's a little irritating that Reiner is the only one Bertholdt ever uses that tone towards. 

"Fine, fine, I will. Right after I have this-" Some of the champagne spills as he takes it from Sasha. "Oops, sorry. Right after I have this champagne."

Bertholdt pinches the bridge of his nose. "Armin, could you pass the jug of water, please?"

Again, Reiner ignores the knowing look in Armin's eyes. When Bertholdt turns back to him and thrusts a glass of water at him, he rolls his eyes, but accepts it. He drains it all under his friend's watchful gaze, and says, "Are you happy, mother?" 

Bertholdt certainly doesn't look it, but Reiner doesn't wait around for a lecture. He picks up his champagne again and sips on it like it's a lifeline.

He feels simultaneously jittery and hazy, and far too wired to take a bite of his food, despite his hunger. Everyone else shovels the meal down at top speed and chatters away, nobody else but Bertholdt and Armin seem to have noticed his behaviour. And maybe Annie- Reiner notices her gaze on him from time to time, which is always an unnerving experience.

More champagne is the best solution, but he makes sure to take some mouthfuls of rice to alleviate Bertholdt's suspicions. He listens to the conversations of those around him, interjecting where appropriate and inappropriate, giggling more and more as time goes by.

Once he's started, it's always nigh-impossible to stop. Especially when he's in this high-energy environment, with others pouring him another glass, and another on top of that. Everyone's on holiday, they're all relaxed and enjoying themselves, hardly anyone pays attention to what's right or reasonable. 

"Fuck, I need a second helping of this shit," Eren says, licking his fork clean (and earning himself a look of distaste from Armin). "Reiner, man, you gotta give me lessons in the kitchen some time."

"Don't let him anywhere near your kitchen," Jean says emphatically. "One time he put two burger patties in my oven and nearly burnt down my apartment."

"Okay, you little bitch, the only thing that got burnt were my patties, but even if I _did_ burn down your apartment, it'd be doing you a favour, because it looks like complete-"

Mikasa claps a hand over his mouth before he can finishes speaking, and Marco claps a hand over Jean's mouth before he can start a comeback.

"Thanks, Eren," Reiner booms, waving his finger in the general direction of Ymir. "I love my fans so much. I'll make you my apprentice, if you want, I'm a really good teacher, ask Bertl."

He goes to take another bite of his risotto, but his fork misses his mouth completely. On his second attempt, he notices everyone's eyes on him.

"Dude, you're _really_ slurring your words right now," Connie says. "How drunk are you?"

Bertholdt is watching Reiner again, jaw tight. So is Annie. Why is everyone on his _case?_

"You- you call this drunk?" Reiner says. "I'm nowhere _near_ drunk. You think I could make all of this while drunk?"

Bertholdt's fork clatters to the ground as Reiner sweeps his hands out to gesture at their food.

"Oh my God, Bertl, I'm so sorry," Reiner groans. "That was an accident. And it wasn't a drunk one!"

"Convincing," Ymir sniggers. "If you had good comedic timing, you'd throw up right now."

"That _would_ be pretty funny, Ymir, but I'm not drunk, sorry about that," Reiner tells her. He makes such an effort not to slur that he over-pronounces every word. "So there'll be no throwing up from me. But there will be throwing _down_ if you all keep lecturing me."

In another good show of comedic timing, he reaches for more champagne.

Everyone else rolls their eyes affectionately, and Connie grabs the bottle from him afterwards to pour himself some extra. Reiner makes to scoop up more rice, but every movement feels more uncoordinated than the last, and he needs to pause for a moment to steady himself.

As foggy as his perception is, he notices Bertholdt staring at him. He's wearing an unhappy frown, which instantly puts Reiner on alert.

"What's up?" he asks, hiccuping. "Y- You don't look so good, Bertl."

Bertholdt's gaze flits away. "Nothing's up."

It's thoroughly unconvincing, Bertholdt still seems on edge. Reiner leans in closer to him. "I think something's up. You're looking at me like something's up."

"It's _nothing_ , Reiner," Bertholdt says. "Just finish your food."

"C'mon, Bertl, talk to me," Reiner pleads. "What's this about?"

Bertholdt shakes his head. "Jesus Christ, quit it. You really need to stop drinking, now, have some water-"

"I don't want water," Reiner says, pushing his hand away. "Just tell me what's wrong, Bertl. Is it about... oh! Is it about Annie?"

He knows he's right, because the moment he says it, Bertholdt blanches. "Reiner-"

"It is, isn't it?" Reiner says. He reaches out to take Bertholdt's shoulder, squeezing it with as much strength as he can muster. "Man, it'll be fine. Families can be tough-"

"Reiner-"

"And her dad has always sounded like a _real_ piece of work, honestly, he's terrible, and I know she's struggled, but if there's one thing I know about Annie, she'll-"

" _Reiner!_ " 

Reiner stops mid-sentence, because Bertholdt sounds alarmed. "Huh? What is it?"

The whole table is looking towards them. And so is Annie. Reiner suddenly realises that he's speaking at a _much_ higher volume than he intended.

"Oh, shit- sorry!" he says, covering his mouth with a hand. "Didn't mean to be so loud, ha... my bad."

Now everyone's gazes shift towards Annie. Reiner can't quite make out her face from this distance, he squints-

A pair of hands grip his shoulders. Reiner glances up at Bertholdt, who stares down at him, hard.

"I'm taking you to bed," he says. 

"Huh?" Reiner tries to wriggle free of him, but Bertholdt's grip is tight. "But I'm not tired-"

" _You're coming_ _to bed._ You're drunk." 

Reiner doesn't have any time to protest, he's pulled to his feet before he can say anything. Being upright makes the world tip upside down in a way he very much does not like, and the nausea almost makes him gag.

"Good call, Bertl," someone that sounds like Ymir says. "He's definitely off his head."

Before Reiner can think of a retort, Bertholdt practically pushes him out of the garden.

"H-Hey- Hey, hold on!" Reiner says, almost tripping over his feet. "Bertl, wait a sec! What's the big idea? I'm not drunk!"

He doesn't get a response. 

When they reach his and Connie's room, Reiner catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror- bloodshot, rumpled and staggering. It doesn't look like he'd be able to stand up on his own two feet without the support. 

Maybe he is drunk. 

Bertholdt leads him into the bathroom, one hand resting on the small of Reiner's back, the other one clutching his arm. The moment he lets go, everything lurches again. "I'll get you something to wear. Try and wash your face."

"Bertl, I don't-"

"Please, Reiner, just do it!"

Everything feels all wrong, but Reiner's head is whirling and his tongue is too heavy in his mouth and Bertholdt sounds like he's on the verge of panicking. Usually Reiner knows what to do when his best friend is upset, but right now he knows nothing, so all he can do is follow what Bertholdt tells him.

He turns on the tap, gripping the edge of the sink. The urge to throw up is enormous right now, but he forces it down and splashes cold water onto his face. Once, twice, thrice. His legs feel like they're about to give way at any moment.

The water does little to ground him, he feels just as woozy as ever when he twists the tap again. He doesn't know if he can walk, but he takes the plunge, and manages to make his way back into his room again.

Bertholdt sits on the edge of his bed. He's laid clothes out, clothes that look impossible to get into. 

"I'll help you," he says, at Reiner's miserable look. "Come over here and lift up your arms."

Thank God. Reiner raises his arms to the air and lets Bertholdt pull up his shirt. Somewhere inside him, he feels like he should be utterly humiliated, but he doesn't have to think with Bertholdt helping him. After a minute or so, Reiner has new clothes on and water dripping down his face- he's only in slightly better condition than before, but he can't bring himself to even think about brushing his teeth.

"You go to sleep, now," Bertholdt says, guiding him towards bed. "You close your eyes and you get some sleep. I'm turning your phone off and putting it on the windowsill."

Reiner doesn't think he's capable of using his hands at the moment, so the idea of him successfully operating a phone is a pipe dream. But it feels so good to not have to make decisions.

Bertholdt pulls back his sheets- Reiner staggers forwards and falls into bed. 

His body is tingling and aching all over, his ears buzz uncontrollably. But he's more preoccupied with his best friend, who's pulling blankets over him.

"Bertl, are you mad?" he says. 

Bertholdt pauses, gripping the sheet so tightly his knuckles go white. Reiner looks up at him almost desperately, his mind is still too muddled to fully comprehend what has happened since Bertholdt pulled him up from the dinner table. 

"Bertholdt," Reiner pleads. "Just tell me..."

Shaking his head, Bertholdt releases the sheet. It falls over Reiner's chest.

"I'm not mad," Bertholdt says. "Everything will be fine, okay? You're just drunk. You'll feel better tomorrow."

"Huh...?" Reiner frowns up at him, he can't understand any of this. "But you seemed mad back there..."

"I'm not mad at you, Reiner," Bertholdt whispers. "This is my fault, I should've stopped you from having so much. I'm sorry."

"But... Are you sure you're not mad...?"

Bertholdt bends over, and his lips brush against Reiner's head.

"I'm sure," he says. He pushes back Reiner's hair, not caring about how damp it is from the sweat. "Don't worry about any of this, Reiner, just sleep. You'll be okay."

Reiner decides to believe him, because Bertholdt wouldn't lie to him, even though he sounds so tired and sad. "Okay, Bertl. Love you..."

"I love you too. Now hush. I'll stay with you till you're out."

And that's Reiner's cue to let go, the confirmation that he'll be safe, even through his nausea and misery and confusion. As he feels himself slip away, brain getting heavier and heavier with each passing second, he feels Bertholdt sit on the bed next to him, with his hand on Reiner's hip, warm and steady. 

The last thing Reiner hears is his deep, weary sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof yeah next chap will be angsty too. i know it's a cliche to have the drunk person to put their foot in their mouth and make things worse but it's a cliche based off Truth guys trust me i know. i've had a fairly unhealthy relationship with Drinking and several moments i am not very proud of but i don't know if i depicted it well in words lol. Words Do Not Work For Me Right Now
> 
> therapy in the chapter notes of ao3 yallllll!!!!!!! hahahaha seriously ignore metho , thank you all so much for your comments and for reaading this silly fic, it means a lot to me when you guys say you enjoy it :)) take care everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: physical and some emotional abuse. another not very happy chapter, my apologies, i tried not to make anything feel too over the top though.
> 
> thank you for your kind messages last chapter. i feel a little bit better now but not by much, but i still managed to churn this out i guess, so small victories! depression mind doesn't write the best things in the world, but i'm proud i still managed to get down over 3k words lmao
> 
> hope you are all okay!

Bertholdt can't be angry with Reiner. It's impossible, in fact. He could never look at his best friend's vulnerability and respond with anger.

Reiner can't control what he says when he's drunk, he never intended and never would intend to put Bertholdt in a bad position. All night he seemed off-kilter and not in his right mind, the usual Reiner would never willingly break his word to Bertholdt. This is all Bertholdt's fault, for not acting quickly enough to help his friend.

It doesn't take Reiner long to fall asleep. Bertholdt rests a soothing hand against his hip, and eventually the tension rolls off of his shoulders, and he sinks into the mattress. The tightness around his eyes relaxes, he exhales.

Up close, Bertholdt can clearly see just how tired his best friend looks. Life of the party though he may be, he looks almost ill right now. Perhaps it's the effects of the alcohol, but judging by the heavy creases under his eyes, it seems like Reiner has had his fair share of sleepless nights. Bertholdt wants to punch himself for not noticing, for constantly getting into his own head instead of paying attention to him.

At least he's peacefully asleep now. Bertholdt can leave him without worrying about his safety, and face the other person he's let down tonight.

Fuck. He promised to always be there for his friends, and now he's not enough for either of them.

With a sigh, he leans forward to kiss Reiner's head- Reiner murmurs, but doesn't stir. He rises from the bed. Now there's only one place left to go. 

In the hallway outside the room, he runs into Connie, who gives him a pat on the shoulder and casts a concerned look into his and Reiner's bedroom. "Is he okay?"

"He fell asleep," Bertholdt says. "He'll be alright."

"Man, Reiner has no self-control, does he?" Connie sighs. "He needs to rein it in a bit. But he's lucky he's got you."

 _No, he isn't,_ Bertholdt wants to say, but he only shrugs.

"Okay, well, I'm spent, so I'm going to bed. Annie went too. The others are downstairs watching TV, but they'll go up soon," Connie says. "Oh, by the way, Jean kept some leftovers for you. He thought you didn't eat enough at dinner."

God, Bertholdt doesn't understand why Jean keeps being so nice to him. He'd expect something like this from Historia or Marco, or Reiner, but definitely not _him_. "That... that was good of him. Um, maybe I'll go down later."

"Alright, man," Connie says. "It's probably best if you check up on Annie first, anyway. She seemed kind of spooked at the table."

"Right," Bertholdt murmurs, ignoring the clenching of his stomach. "Thanks, Connie. Goodnight."

"Night." Connie disappears into the room- Bertholdt catches one last glimpse of Reiner asleep before the door closes.

At this moment, Bertholdt wishes he was in Reiner's position. Not drunk out of his mind and nauseous, but fast asleep, tucked beneath the covers with someone to hold him as he drifts off. But he knows he can't avoid what's coming, so he heads straight for his and Annie's room. 

When he enters their room, he closes the door behind him as lightly as he can, but it doesn't matter. She's already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, with her foot tapping wildly against the floor and her thumbnail between her teeth. Nobody but him ever sees her like this. 

The moment Annie spots him, she rises from the bed.

"Annie," Bertholdt says. He takes a step backwards to try and create distance between them as she approaches, but it's a fruitless act. "I didn't-" 

_Slap!_

His face snaps to the side, but the rest of his body remains still. No amount of expectation can make the sharp sting of his cheek easier to deal with. 

"How many times?" she snarls at him, hand still raised. "How many times have I told you that I don't want anyone to know anything? I told you earlier _today!_ "

He returns his gaze to her. There's none of the clear headed Annie there, the one who analyses situations coolly and is unfazed by everything that's thrown in her direction. She's furious, almost wild-eyed.

"I didn't tell him anything today, I swear." Bertholdt lowers his voice, hoping that she will too. "Reiner was drunk. He wasn't thinking straight, he didn't mean to say anything-"

Annie seizes hold of his collar, yanking him downwards. "He wouldn't have said anything at all if you had just kept your fucking mouth shut in the first place!"

"I know, and I'm so-"

"They all asked me, when he left, they asked me questions about what that fucking alcoholic said. _Annie, what's wrong, Annie, are you okay, Annie, do you need anything-_ getting into my business! " Annie's nails scrape into his scalp, fingers clamping down, pulling his hair so hard moving might cost him a chunk of it. Bertholdt doesn't resist, even as his eyes water. " _I told you never to tell anyone, Bertholdt!_ You're the only one I've ever trusted with any of this, and you couldn't shut your fucking mouth-"

She releases him, but winds her elbow back for another slap. It lands harder than before, the sound echoes even louder than the first strike. 

Bertholdt still doesn't twitch a finger. He might be bigger, he might be able to stop her, but he would never raise a hand in defence. He could never hurt her, just like he could never hurt Reiner. No matter what she does. 

Annie's hand falls back to her side. Bertholdt can see in the mirror that half of his face is bright red, that his hair is tousled from where she pulled at it. She glares at him, chest heaving, before stalking away towards the dresser. 

"For fuck's sake!" Annie says, and she slams her hand against the wood, loud enough to startle Bertholdt. "I don't need this, okay? I don't need them on my case, on top of everything else- all- all I asked for- all I want is- Jesus Christ!"

Her anger renders her incoherent.

Bertholdt brings his hand to his face, running his fingers across his sore cheek, and straightens his collar. Though his hands tremble, he does his best to maintain his composure. "Annie."

She doesn't answer him. Her head is bent over the dresser, hiding her face from view.

"I'm so sorry," Bertholdt says, at her continued silence. "I know that you didn't want anyone to know. And this is my fault, I know, I'm sorry. But..."

"But what?" Annie snaps, when his words trail off for too long.

Bertholdt winces. "It's just... it's just that-"

"Bertholdt, stop fucking _stuttering_."

"I'm- I'm sorry. All I'm saying is... I know you didn't want anyone to know, but... everyone cares about you." Bertholdt wrings his hands together almost frantically, not daring to move any closer, though he wishes he could see the look on her face. "They just... they just want to help you, baby. That's all they want. They want you to be okay. Them knowing doesn't have to be a bad thing."

Annie's shoulders tense. She grasps for the first thing within her reach- a glass bottle of perfume, one he bought for her a few months ago- and hurls it in his direction.

Bertholdt ducks just in time. Perfume splashes everywhere as the wayward bottle smashes into the wall behind him. 

For several moments, Bertholdt doesn't move from where he has his arms held over his head. His pulse hammers in his throat as the fumes rise.

He raises his head slowly. Annie has a hand over her mouth, and she's inhaling and exhaling rapidly, surveying the broken glass and liquid staining the floor tiles with barely restrained panic. But when she meets Bertholdt's eyes, she lowers her trembling hand from her face. 

"I'm not like you," she spits, and now she's approaching him again, getting closer and closer with each livid word, working herself into more of a fury. "Okay? I'm not like you, needing to cling to Reiner for everything, because you can't handle the world. Going bananas with your stupid fucking _panic attacks_. I'm not like that!"

It would hurt less for her to punch him. But Bertholdt doesn't say anything, even when she grabs hold of his collar once more.

"I've got everything under control," she snarls. "I don't want anyone interfering!"

This isn't her. Annie isn't like this. Only this morning she was sweet to Bertholdt, she supports him, she loves her friends. This isn't her. This is rage speaking, this is her father. The real Annie is nothing like the man who has put all this poison into her head.

"That's not you talking, Annie," Bertholdt murmurs, and her eyes widen. "It's him. He's got into your head, he's been there for a long time. You _can_ accept help from others, there's no reason why you should have to-"

" _Shut up!_ "

His words die in his throat when she seizes his jaw, so hard that he starts to worry that she might leave finger shaped bruises. She drives her fist into his ribs, the side that was already hurt. Bertholdt absorbs the blow without a sound, resisting the urge to hiss through his teeth.

They stand paralysed in the moment, her knuckles still buried in his side, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. And then Annie lets go of his jaw, and steps away from him. 

Her gaze takes in the broken bottle, his newly reddened face, his rumpled clothes. Realisation sets in.

"Fuck," Annie says. "Fuck."

"Annie."

"I've... I've got to get out of here. Jesus, I've got to get out of here."

"Annie, wait."

Paying him no heed, she makes a break for the bathroom, leaving Bertholdt alone. For just one moment, Bertholdt allows himself to feel the swell of emotion rising in his throat, clutching his side. The sight of shattered glass, the scent of that perfume- God, she smiled so much that day, she loved the smell of it in the shop and that was why he bought it for her, she kissed him on the cheek and sprayed it on both of their necks- it all makes him feel sick.

He curses himself for his self-pity. A few blows, broken glass, that's nothing. She's angry, she's hurt, she doesn't know how to cope. Annie has suffered so much, and keeps it all restrained inside her until she reaches breaking point, why should he be the one complaining? 

She emerges from the bathroom, and he realises with a jolt that her hair is pinned up, and she's pulled on a hoodie and shoes. She's going out.

"Annie, what are you doing?" Bertholdt says, alarm flickering within him. "Annie, it's late, where are you going?"

Annie dodges his outstretched hand, shaking her head rapidly. "I need to get out of here."

"No, please- you don't need to-"

But she doesn't listen. She flings the door open and slams it shut behind her, right into Bertholdt's face, leaving him alone. 

Jesus Christ.

Bertholdt remains perfectly still for several moments, not having the faintest clue what to do first. He stares at the door she just flung in his face, his hand tightens around his lower ribs, he lets out a breath that's more of a gasp.

The almost noxious scent of perfume stirs him into action. He takes a step towards the puddle of fragrance, thinking that he should try and solve the most tangible problem before he even thinks about confronting everything else going on in his mind. 

What is he even going to do with it? There's glass everywhere, and no dustpan here... He'll have to leave the room if he wants to get this mess cleared. The kitchen will have what he needs.

Instead of biting the bullet and getting to work, Bertholdt sinks to the floor, and sits back against the bed. 

He can't do anything, can he? He can't help his best friend, he can't help his girlfriend, he can't clear up some broken glass. 

Bertholdt's phone buzzes in his pocket. Normally he would pay it no heed at all, but Annie has just left and he doesn't know where she is, if there's the slightest chance it's her...

It's not. It's Jean.

_Chat: Jean Kirschtein and Bertholdt Hoover_

**Jean:** are u okay???

 **Jean:** i was passing ur room before and i heard glass breaking?

Fucking hell. There's a tremor in Bertholdt's hands, but he forces himself to knock out a response, not wanting to make anything seem suspicious.

 **Bertholdt:** Yeah, I'm okay

 **Bertholdt:** Was my fault, I was being clumsy and knocked over a bottle of perfume

 **Jean:** oh

 **Jean:** are u sure?

 **Bertholdt:** Yeah no need to worry

 **Bertholdt:** I'll clean it up, I'm sorry

 **Jean:** no no idc about that

 **Jean:** just making sure ur alright

 **Bertholdt:** I am thanks

 **Jean:** ok good. btw was reiner okay?

 **Bertholdt:** Yeah just drunk I put him to sleep, he'll be fine

 **Jean:** that's good :)

 **Jean:** ok well goodnight x

 **Jean:** oh btw, there's some leftovers if u want them, sasha scarfed down a lot of the food but i kept some for u bc u didn't eat much 

Bertholdt's insides twist in guilt. There's so much going on right now that he doesn't think he'd be able to stomach a bite, even if he did leave his plate half-finished because of his anxiety and Reiner. 

**Bertholdt:** Thank you so much

 **Bertholdt:** Goodnight

 **Jean:** :)

Letting his phone drop to the floor beside him, Bertholdt presses his palms against his eyes. He draws in deep, level breaths, trying to ease the painful coiling in his chest. 

He can't have one of his stupid fucking panic attacks. He needs to clear his head and focus on the present, what needs to be done now- cleaning up the perfume. 

Before he can move, his phone starts buzzing _again._ This time, it isn't a text- it's a call. Bertholdt scoops the phone up to check the caller I.D.

_Levi Ackerman._

Now his fucking boss is ringing him. Bertholdt knows he could leave it to go to voicemail, but this is Levi, and if he's ringing while Bertholdt is on holiday it must be something important. Bertholdt swipes right and presses the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice is brittle, he winces and makes an effort to sound more composed. "L- Levi?"

"Bertholdt." There's never a time where Levi's voice isn't businesslike and brisk- even if they're doing something as simple as getting lunch together, his boss talks like he's assessing Bertholdt for a job interview. "Don't worry, this won't take long. Marcel told me I shouldn't call you about work matters because you're on holiday, but he's got his panties in a twist, because before you left you forgot to send him the draft of the proposal for-"

The words blur over in Bertholdt's mind. His eyes zero in on the puddle of perfume from where he's huddled into himself. His mind takes him to where he desperately does not want to go, he imagines Annie staggering down the road away from the villa, in her panic and hurt and reckless rage, all because of him-

"Bertholdt. Bertholdt! Are you there?"

Bertholdt's attention snaps back to the call. _Shit._

"I'm sorry," Bertholdt says. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Levi, can you say that again?"

Levi grunts. "So, first it's shirking your job duties, and now it's ignoring your boss?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Bertholdt grabs the bridge of his nose, pinching it in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm really sorry."

"Easy, easy," Levi says. To the untrained ear, he sounds completely nonchalant, but Bertholdt recognises the faintest trace of concern in his voice. "I'm joking. You need to add Marcel to the doc with the draft of the latest policy proposal- you forgot to do it before you left."

Oh, God. He'd told himself to do that on the last workday before he went to Italy- but Annie had been angry that night, and it completely crossed his mind... "I will. God, I'm so sorry about that, it must have just slipped my mind."

"It's not the end of the world, just send it over, then get back to your holiday," Levi tells him. "Not that it sounds like a bundle of fun right now, though. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Bertholdt says, but the waver in his voice betrays him. "I've just been a bit distracted."

"Not enjoying your Italian escapade?" 

"No- no, I am." The odour of the perfume is really starting to get to him. 

Levi hums. "You're with Mikasa and her weirdo friends, right?"

"Y-Yeah." 

"And your girlfriend."

Bertholdt tenses. "Yeah..."

"How is she?" Levi asks. "Is she doing alright?" 

Why is he asking so many _questions?_ Why would Levi even care about Annie? He's never showed a hint of interest in any of his employees' personal lives before. "Y- Yeah, she's fine."

"Right." For some reason, Levi's casual drawl sounds colder and harder than usual. "Are you sure you're okay, Bertholdt?"

Bertholdt doesn't trust his voice not to give out on him, but he manages a tentative, "Yeah, I'm fine..."

"Hm. Well, okay, then," Levi says. "Just take it easy. I won't call again with any work business, but... if you need something, you can give me a call."

It's an unusual show of consideration from him. Bertholdt must be sounding really pathetic to elicit that sort of reaction from Levi. "Okay... thanks."

"Right, I'll hang up, now. I'll see you back at work in a few weeks."

"Yeah," Bertholdt says faintly. "Bye, Levi... Sorry again about that draft..."

"Don't worry about it. Be seeing you."

The line clicks, leaving Bertholdt alone in the silence of the room again. He drops his phone onto his lap, completely drained from the brief conversation.

He still has the broken perfume bottle to clear up. Annie's still outside in the dark, God knows where. And now he has to send that fucking document to Marcel.

_Move your ass, y_ _ou've got things to do. You don't deserve to wallow around in self-pity. This was your fault in the first place._

Pushing himself onto unsteady feet, Bertholdt advances towards the mirror. He fixes his hair, he smooths down his clothes. The red mark on his face has faded, it's barely noticeable, and Annie didn't leave bruises when grabbing his jaw. There's no excuse not to leave his room, to go downstairs and get the dustpan and brush to clean up the glass.

 _Move, Bertholdt,_ he tells himself, as his throat closes up and his eyes turn bright. _And d_ _on't cry._ _Don't you dare cry._

But he can't help himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i really agonised over this chap so i hope it wasn't too bad. honestly, i've worried about making annie the antagonist of this story, but then i remember she's a fairly unrepentant killer, was a loner pushed to her limits by her father, and definitely lashes out with violence in anger (like when she beat the everloving shit out of reiner) in canon lmao. don't get me wrong tho, she's actually my second favourite character after bertholdt, i love her! but it's definitely not because she's a paragon of virtue or anything, she's complex and damaged, like all of them are. 
> 
> i'm doing my very best to keep things nuanced in this story, nuanced in the sense that, Annie's actions are completely wrong, unhealthy and toxic, but there are reasons and a history behind her, and as this is an AU her behaviour and reactions to her traumas manifest in this way. i'm really trying to make it so she's not just "i'm the evil girlfriend so bert/reiner can get together". it's a very touchy topic to write about lmao i just worry
> 
> i know levi and bertholdt have no connection in canon, but i just liked making the shorty our tall boy's boss
> 
> thank you for reading and the kind comments. it means a lot. i really hope you enjoyed this?


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